Public Image
by Youlookgoodinleather
Summary: Attending Barbie Princess Charm School is the charismatic, charming and trans-gendered "former" prostitute Christie Summers, who has to rely on political correctness, her own acting abilities and a whole lot of manipulation to survive and become a Lady Royal. Contains strong language, slash and adult themes.
1. Chapter 1 - Gender Specific Pronouns

**AN: There are no real, decent explanations for this. I do not own Barbie, nor the characters from BPCS, if I did I imagine the children of the world would be rather shocked by the sudden changes and several parents would be infuriated. Contains strong language and mildly sexual content later on.**

Emile was sat in front of the TV, flicking through the channels, unbelievably bored. Christie had come in half an hour ago, her night shift of work over and so she'd gone to collapse on her bed, still wearing her uniform -if you could call it that-. Disinterested in the TV by now, Emile left it on the news channel and picked up his homework -physics- going through the sheets he'd been given and writing the most amusing troll answers he could think of. They weren't going to be able to afford school next year anyway so what was the point in trying?

Snickering to himself, the twelve year old was only half listening to the television, but he still froze completely when his sibling's name was called out from the speakers.

"Christie Summers," The women on screen repeated, her face obscured slightly by the lines of grey pixels that ran through it because the television was so crap, but when Emile looked up he could still make out that she was indeed saying his sibling's name.

The screen changed back to the two news presenters who were grinning out at him.

"Wherever you are Christie Summers, you are one lucky girl! Get ready to be collected by the carriage because you're going to Princess Charm School!" Phil the anchor-man announced, flashing his teeth at the camera as his female counterpart mimicked him. Sat cross-legged on his living room floor, Emile's stomach was plummeting. He was going to get into so much shit for this.

Scrambling up onto his feet Emile scurried over to the new charm school student's room, subtly slipping in and bracing himself for the hell he was about to receive. Princess charm school was a place where young ladies were taught how to become lady royals and princesses, and they had an annual lottery where ordinary citizens could enter as candidates and one very lucky winner would be offered the chance to attend, as a life changing opportunity. Emile had only entered Christie as a joke, a little piece of revenge for the shame. He'd never thought that his entry would end up winning though.

His sibling was stretched out over the duvet of the bed, having passed out immediately after arriving home. Still dressed, Christie was wearing the usual fishnet stockings, shiny leather miniskirt and a matching crop top, long dark hair splayed out across the pillow which also had make up smeared across it. So she was still Christie.

"Christie, wake up," Emile urged hurriedly, shaking his sister awake. Grunting slightly, Christie opened her eyes simply to glare at him, silent. "You've got to get up," Emile informed her sheepishly, praying he'd wake up now from this all too realistic nightmare.

Muttering to herself, Christie ran a hand across her eyes to remove the thick make-up there and sat up, swinging her legs off over the side of the bed.

"What, is it mum?" She grumbled, sighing loudly. Their adoptive mother had been sick in hospital for several months and regularly they had both been called in to see her as the doctors had worried that that day would be her last.

"No, it's worse," Emile whispered, trembling a little, trying to tug his sister out of bed to force her to get up faster. They didn't have long.

"What have you done?" Christie demanded dryly, stretching herself out and pulling the fishnet stockings off of her legs. Yanking her wig off, she leaned over to grab the glasses on her bedside table which she'd deemed too geeky for her work.

"I'm really, really sorry," Emile hurried to say in advance, backing away a little now that his sister was up. His mind was racing far ahead of his mouth, and amongst the terror he felt towards the eruption that was bound to occur, the beginning of an idea was starting to form in his head.

Eyeing her brother, Christie paused for a moment before shaking her head and pulling the crop top up over her head, leaving the lacy bra she wore exposed, along with the implants gently eased into it. Avoiding looking at it, still not entirely comfortable with the thing, Emile dipped his head.

"Out with it then," Christie ordered, unclipping the bra and leaving it on the side of the bed, flexing her shoulders, her bare torso very much male. He was Christian now.

"I-" Emile started, unsure how to continue. He had to hurry though, he couldn't afford to waste time. Whilst it had all just been a joke, this could be the opportunity they'd needed- after all, all lady royals were rich bitches. "I entered you into the Princess charm school lottery. As a joke, because of the whole cross-dressing thing," He admitted, flushing scarlet as he felt himself being scrutinised by his brother. Unbelievably, his brother simply laughed and flopped back down on the bed.

"That's it? I thought you'd gone and killed someone or something," He chuckled to himself and stretched his arms out in front of him, his joints popping audibly.

"You won," Emile told him quietly, waiting. This time, he was met with silence.

Frozen with his arms outstretched, Christian didn't reply, he just lay there leaving Emile feeling worse and worse.

"Bullshit," He said finally, sitting bolt upright and staring wild eyed at his younger brother.

"They'll be coming here in a few minutes, they'll be expecting Christie."

"Then I'll just decline. They won't accept me anyway, when they find out," Christian countered airily, casually waving his hand as if it was the easiest thing ever.

"You can't, you have to go," Emile pushed, sighing to himself and then going over to sit down next to his brother on the bed, making an extra special effort not to think about what had happened on the aforementioned bed.

Ruffling his little brother's hair, Christian laughed again.

"And why's that, so I can be publicly humiliated?" He joked in a rather patronising tone but Emile was used to it.

"No, for mum," He answered quietly, drawing his knees up into himself. The hand in his hair stilled and his brother was quiet for a moment.

"There's no chance I'll get away with it. Someone will easily notice; I'm not that good," Christian pointed out in a soft tone, pulling his brother into him and hugging him reassuringly. They were both worried about their mother but that didn't change the fact that Christian was first and foremost a male, in sex at least.

"Tell the head teacher. Get her to arrange something for you. They can't reject you, not with all the recent hype about political correctness and equal rights. Say you identify solely as female," Emile urged him, leaning into his brother. They hadn't hugged since the whole thing had begun but now it seemed they both needed it.

"Would you be alright with that? The shame wouldn't be too much?" Christian asked dryly, still thinking the proposal over. The boy leant against his shoulder simply nodded.

"Alright then," Christian agreed after a moment, sounding slightly stunned at his own decision but standing nevertheless, picking up the bra he'd left on the duvet and reattaching it around his torso, tucking the implants in properly. He then reached a small problem. "All my female clothes are for work," He realised aloud, searching through the clothes strewn across the floor for something a little more respectable than a crop top or something made purely from lace.

"Uh oh," Emile swallowed, trying to think of something decent his sister owned. "You have the red jacket and those heels one of your clients gave you," He suggested awkwardly, strangling the word 'clients' slightly but at least he'd managed to say it this time.

"Good thinking little bro," Christie praised him with a teasing grin, hopping around the floor of her room to find the suggested items of clothing, picking up a top that at least half covered her stomach and a skirt that sufficiently covered her lower area which was what this whole crazy mission would rely on. Re-clipping the wig back onto her head, Christie whipped her hair back and quickly ran a brush through it before pulling it up into a ponytail.

Finished dressing, Christie inspected herself in the full length mirror that was hung on her wall and then twirled in front of her brother.

"Respectable?" She asked, seeking a second opinion. Biting down on his lip, Emile tried to view his brother dressed as a female wearing hooker clothes as respectable. On the plus side she did look female, his brother had always been very effeminate and pretty in a girly sort of way but the clothes… the most respectable thing was the ripped red leather jacket she was wearing which had exaggerated rocker silver spikes littered across the shoulders and gaudy silver buttons. She'd stick out amongst the neat, refined uniform of the other princesses and lady royals in training like a very unwanted sore thumb.

"I guess," Emile sighed, looking away from his sister, who he'd only just learnt to call his sister. His sibling, be it female or male had always been a rather… complicated being but the whole working as a cross-dressing prostitute thing had been quite the shock, especially to the relatively normal, heterosexual twelve year old boy who was his/her brother. More confusing was the fact that he/she identified neither as solely male nor female and liked to switch between the two. Fortunately for their sensitive mother, it had all started after she'd been admitted to hospital so she was still unaware of her eldest son's transgendered activities.

At that moment, the doorbell rang, the noise scraping and unnecessarily high-pitched -just one of the many things that needed fixing with money- and Emile scrambled up off of the bed and rushed to go and fetch the door. Sighing to herself and shaking her head, Christie wondered why she felt so male. Normally, all she needed was the proper get up to feel female but at that moment of chaos and panic, she couldn't help feeling more male than female. Maybe it was just because the Bra strap was cutting into her shoulder blade and she'd put her skirt on in a hurry so it was pressing into her hip bones, or because she was traditionally only female whilst working, either way she'd much rather be Christian right now.

Sighing and muttering to herself about how fussy she was, Christie quickly reapplied her make-up then followed her brother out of the door, smoothing her skirt down and carefully buttoning the jacket up to hide her exposed stomach.

Standing in the opened doorway was a stocky, blunt faced man who wore dark sunglasses so his eyes were completely obscured but despite that and his rather drawn, expressionless face Christie could still see him visibly react to the site of her. He was used to pretty little princesses after all.

"Christie Summers?" He inquired in a very deep, dull voice.

"That's me," Christie replied brightly, smiling in a friendly manner. The man looked her up and down in response and didn't return the smile.

"You need to come with me; I am to drive you to charm school," He explained, briefly sparing a glance at Emile who was eying him suspiciously.

"The carriage is down on the road," Emile added as he was stood by the window that looked over the street below, in case Christie didn't trust the man's word.

"Thanks," Christie whispered to him, going over and hugging him briefly -two hugs in one day, really they were becoming far too touchy feely- before Emile peeled himself away and stood there awkwardly with his arms folded, trying to wish his sister luck with his eyes, seemingly having a problem using his voice. "Bye," She called to him, following after the driver who had turned and left already, no time for their family goodbyes.

Down on the road below, the carriage was just as it had appeared on the television, all ornate and decorated with intricate carvings, pink and purple in colouring and pulled by two matching horses. Without speaking the driver moved to his seat and sat down, gathering the reigns and commanding the carriage into motion.

Not quite done staring at the carriage, Christie had to shake herself into focus and race to jump up into the carriage, pulling herself safely into the seat. Tea, make-up and a mirror had been set out before her, but the tea was wobbling worryingly in its cup as the carriage trundled over the various pebbles and pieces of litter that decorated the roads of the slums. Balancing it between her hands with an expert delicacy Christie quickly drained it then set the empty cup down and put her head in her hands.

Okay. So she had now set out on her grand mission to secure a position as a Lady Royal, despite really preferring to be male -she was alright with either gender but male was quite frankly easier, and she associated her female persona with being a prostitute- and also, somehow, she was going to have to use political morals to secure her a place at the school. Not to mention the fact that she actually had to pass the whole lady royal test. Chuckling darkly, she shook her head, sat up and smiled confidently. She'd always been good at handling challenges.


	2. Chapter 2 - Political Correctness

**AN: Freedom Fighter Forever. Still own nothing, still no explanations or excuses.**

Admittedly, this was rather awkward.

Having been entirely brushed off by the driver who'd dropped her off when she'd asked for directions, Christie had found herself stood, entirely lost, outside the entrance to the Princess Charm School building. Larger than any building Christie had ever seen in her life, she was still trying to figure out how she'd work out where everything was when she spotted several girls milling about, coming around the corner and approaching her direction.

Her first thoughts were optimistic, thinking that she could ask them where new students were supposed to go and what she should be doing. Then when they drew closer she could see them in more detail, and most importantly what they were wearing.

Just their waistcoats probably cost more than her entire wardrobe –which was pretty extensive, required for her line of work- judging by the sheen to the dark blue material; their little pleated skirts were thick, richly dyed and knee length, at least twice what hers was. It wasn't just the obvious expense of their clothes that was getting to Christie, but how damn preppy they looked, preened perfectly right down to their very last strand of hair.

Glancing back down at herself, Christie awkwardly tried to tug the hem of her skirt down to at least cover half her thighs and then picked in despair at the fraying on her top and jacket. In her own neighbourhood, like this she might pass as a usual citizen, a bit of a whore but not recognised as an actual prostitute. Here though? She was probably the personification of everything these girls strove _not_ to be.

Already able to see and hear the girls gesturing over at her, whispering amongst themselves and gasping in horror, giggling at how shameful her attire was, Christie quickly crossed out asking the other students for directions and straightened up. Nothing she could do was going to make her blend in here; after all she was dressed in hot-red. Only one thing for it.

Head held high, she marched on in through the school doors, determined to appear entirely confident. Pointedly ignoring people as they physically stopped still in their tracks and gaped at her, she entered into a hall, into which her house could fit several times over. Everything was glitzy, well-polished and clearly high-end, the split staircase at the end constructed from a marble that shone in the light so brightly she had to squint to look directly at it. All the sparkles and lights were making her head spin.

Continuing on anyway, navigating in amongst the sea of students who were all dressed identically, in their neat little preppy uniforms and their hair done up in elaborate arrangements, Christie glanced around for some help. After all, they all knew she was coming; surely there was some sort of guidance left out for her that she'd just missed.

As she reached the middle of the hall however, walking down an ornate carpet that ran a line through the centre of the hall leading out from the stairs, she was nearly bowled over by a girl roughly knocking into her.

"Well excuse you," Christie muttered darkly, rolling her eyes for she knew exactly where this kind of behaviour was coming from. Just because she clearly didn't belong here, didn't mean people had to shoulder-crash into her.

Spinning around swiftly on her heels so her mass of black curls danced in the air, the girl who'd knocked into Christie stared incredulously at her, her eyebrows shooting up. Christie could tell from just one look at her new 'opponent' that she was the kind to happily rip someone to shreds with her words.

"You can't be serious, surely?" The black-haired girl snorted, her voice high and pretty and she laughed, the noise cold. Flanking her quickly came two delightful minions, one glaring sourly at Christie as if she were the scum of the universe and then other simply loyally watched their leader. Never having attended high school, Christie had no clue whatsoever how these little power circles worked but could tell who was going to spear-head the attack.

"Well, since you seemed incapable of making your own apology, I made it for you," Christie shrugged. Perhaps being a defensive, snarky bag of snappy comments wasn't the way to go if she wanted to make friends here, but judging by the cold, narrowed glares she was receiving from the rest of the human population here, simply keeping her head down wasn't going to get her anywhere either.

Aghast, the black haired girl looked as though she'd never been so insulted in her life. Sharing shocked glances with her two little followers, both of whom were pretty, tall, blonde and the closest things to living stereotypes Christie had ever met, the black-haired girl quickly lost her expression of horror and smirked. Looking Christie up and down, she was judging her in the most obvious way possible and the rest of the students seemed all to be awaiting her judgement, having fallen quiet around them.

Returning to looking Christie in the eye, the black-haired girl covered her mouth with the back of her hand, barely suppressing a giggle. "I'm ever so sorry, I didn't realise you were lost," She simpered, but Christie could tell from her tone this was not an apology in any way. "This is the princess charm school, but don't worry, I can give you directions. You just have to go out that door, down the road and I'm sure you'll find a street corner sooner or later," The girl sneered, pointing at the door in an overly dramatic fashion, completely unaware how close to the truth she was with that comment. Loyally responding to her criticism, the two blondes flanking her laughed along in high, musical voices and the rest of the audience exchanged excited whispers, snickering.

As this was all beginning to get a little bit western showdown like, Christie was interrupted from saying something that would probably make this spoilt little girl's toes curl when a bell rang out. Smirking since it seemed she'd had the last laugh, the black haired girl turned away from Christie in a very swishy movement, blanking her as she began cheerfully chatting to her friends, walking off with them to whatever lessons they got taught here. If Christie really did get accepted into this place, what on earth would she be learning? Being a spoilt bitch 101? Advanced snobbery?

Exhaling slowly, Christie tried to calm herself down and glanced around the emptying hall, very much aware that she still had no clue where to go, despite the fact that she'd already been here a good ten minutes.

"Christie Summers?" A voice called out, clear and confident, although it sounded rather surprised.

Responding, Christie turned to face the three-way staircase and spotted that a new individual had arrived, who judging by her formal suit and age, was a teacher here. Not really sure how to respond to this woman, who was in her early thirties at most with a soft face and a kind smile, despite being more than able to see Christie in full, the new charm school student fidgeted awkwardly and waited for the woman to finished descending down the stairs.

Stepping out before him, the woman ran her gaze over him twice, not with the same malicious cruelty as the black-haired girl had, but there was an odd exasperated expression in her face that Christie did not understand. "I think you'd better come with me, _Christie,_" The woman sighed, giving her name an unnecessary amount of emphasis.

Shrugging internally for she had no idea what on earth could have gotten her in trouble already… other than her attire… and the verbal fighting… well, other than those things, she'd barely even arrived. Still, she followed after this woman as they headed off down a series of corridors, all as finely decorated as the hall, until they turned off into a little octagonal office room that was lit by warm, golden-tinted gas lamps and lined with bookshelves along all the walls save two, which both held doors.

Strolling forward, the woman went and took a seat behind the varnished wooden desk in the centre of the room, tucking her chair in and sitting up like a proper lady. Rotating three-hundred and sixty degrees leisurely to admire the sheer luxury of the room, which somehow managed to top everything she'd seen so far, including the chandeliers constructed solely from gold, brass and diamond, Christie eventually settled, facing the woman. Glancing down at her desk, she spotted the name badge heading it and swallowed, reading the title 'Headmistress Alexandra Privet' upon it. So she was in trouble with the higher ups already.

Picking up a stack of paper sat on her right-hand side, the headmistress leafed through the sheets before splaying them out across the space of her desk, leaving them all face up and exposed.

"Would you care to explain these, _Miss_ Christie?" Alexandra inquired in a falsely polite tone, motioning for Christie to step forward.

Complying, Christie walked round to stand beside the desk and looked across it. Displayed fully across the surface were all of her medical records, her birth certificate, her school records, a criminal warning from that one time she'd moonlighted in street art and every other possible official documentation of her life she could think of.

"Naturally we investigate our lucky lottery winners before they attend this school, for the safety of the future lady royals and princesses," The headmistress drawled dryly, raising an eyebrow at Christie as she looked her over again, focusing on her chest area especially. "So would you care to elaborate on how you felt you could get away with pretending to be female?" She asked stiffly, holding up Christie's birth certificate and tapping her finger next to the identification of Christie's sex being male, then the name 'Christian Summers' that was printed in the middle.

Now, were she naïve, desperately hopeful and deluded, Christie would be surprised by this confrontation, but it was obviously going to have occurred sooner or later, and quite frankly sooner would mean she could escape this madness faster. Smiling easily, she stepped back from the desk and clasped her hands together in front of her, the perfect picture of formality, minus the hooker clothes.

"Actually Miss Privet, whilst I may be male in sex," She began in her best proper voice, which honestly was an impersonation of the snobby character from the only sitcom she allowed herself to watch, "I identify as female in gender."

Whilst that may be a lie, since she felt quite comfortable as either male or female, preferring to save female for work, she needed to stick to that story in order to even have a hope of getting into this prestigious institute. Whether she claimed to be solely female or not however, the headmistress still grumbled and muttered to herself, shaking her head as she exhaled through pinched lips, whistling slightly.

"Listen Christian," she began.  
"Christie," Christie corrected her without missing a beat, more than used to having to fix other people's use of her names. Pursing her lips into a small, thin line, the head teacher looked more than happy to start arguing with her, but then decided against it, frowning as she continued.

"Whilst this may have seemed like a very clever idea to you, we are an all-girls school," She emphasised pointedly, finally looking over at Christie as she spoke.

"And I'm a girl," Christie supplied helpfully, grinning a little too tightly to seem non-threatening.

Laughing in disbelief at Christie's supposed impertinence, the headmistress swiftly rose from her chair and went to stand by her bookshelf, resting a hand on it for support as she looked over at the cross-dresser.

"I'm sorry that you're so blinded but-" She began, but Christie knew what was coming and it meant little to her. She'd had plenty of lectures on how she was a despicable creature who plagued the earth with her depravity, blah blah blah, but despite the head teacher's clear prejudice against a trans-gendered female, she had other tricks up her sleeve.

"Miss Privet, do you remember the incident with lady royal in training Catherine Oscars?" Christie inquired airily; pretending to look elsewhere as she snuck glances over at the woman to gauge her reaction.

Visibly stiffening where she stood, the head teacher quite clearly did remember Catherine Oscars. Just three months ago, there's been a media uproar when the princess charm school had kicked lady royal in training Catherine Oscars out, based on the reasoning that she had kissed one of her fellow female students, utilising the claim that the school was a "strictly non-romance environment".

Responding to this with great vigour and energy, the LGBT community constructed a vast wealth of documentation of heterosexual relationships openly held between students at the charm school and boys from the neighbouring community, or from the neighbouring Prince Charming School, to which no protest was made by the school body. With their homophobia covered on international news channels, the incident was labelled one of the most high profile scandals of the year and the twenty minute documentary on the subject went viral within a day.

After that incident, a new wave of political correctness and minority social acceptance programmes had been sponsored by the school in an attempt to cover their tracks, and Catherine had been invited back. Declining, the ex-lady royal in training was now one of the leading activists in human rights, aided by her high profile and well known story. After all their effort to patch up their sullied reputation however, the last thing the school would want would be the story of them refusing someone on the grounds of being trans-gendered getting out.

"Naturally, I'd be more than happy to answer questions when reporters start asking why the new lottery girl isn't attending," Christie added with just a little hint of smugness, because quite frankly, this woman had been beginning to get on her nerves. Having been nocturnal for the past two months, she'd barely heard a whisper of complaint against her cross-dressing for quite some time, and had forgotten how riled up she could get by it.

Now vaguely slumped against the book shelf, the head teacher was staring rather fearfully at her.

"You really want to do this? I mean look at you…" She trailed off, simply gesturing at Christie and her very unbefitting attire.

"Naturally. It is a once in a lifetime opportunity after all," Christie bounced back, perfectly quoting the television advertisement for the lottery, even matching the corny accent of the presenter.

Picking at her teeth nervously with her flawlessly varnished nails, Miss Privet gave several shifty glances around the room before throwing her hands up in defeat.

"Fine. If that is what this fine, age-old establishment is coming too," She declared hopelessly, pacing to the other side of the room and then doubling back before she came to close to Christie. "It's not as if we stand for anything, who needs rules and sensibilities when you have political correctness?" She rambled, seeming to have lost it a little bit as she jabbered on to herself.

Rather pleased with herself, Christie tucked her hands in her jacket pocket and rocked back on her heels, watching the woman have a breakdown with a subtly bemused smile.

"However," Miss Privet suddenly snapped, whipping around to face Christie and looking slightly manic as her fly away hair lay frazzled around her head and her eyes were a little too wide, her skin bitten and pale, "You shall not tell the other girls of this. The last thing I need is parents phoning in and kicking off at me," She ordered stubbornly.

Whilst her inner freedom fighter was urging her to do something about this little injustice, Christie just shrugged. She still got to be a lady royal, and quite frankly she didn't fancy taking on the kings and queens of the many realms in a battle of social acceptance. She had other priorities to protect after all, her mother being number one on that list. Emile would probably die of shame if she became the centrepiece of a scandal too…

Snapping out of that little internal monologue, Christie gave the headmistress a wickedly bright smile and nodded.

"Certainly," She agreed willingly, watching as the woman deflated slightly at her acceptance, apparently having been looking for a fight. Brushing a hand back through her hair, Miss Privet exhaled slowly and heavily and then glanced back up at Christie. "I suppose you'd better follow me for the tour then."


	3. Chapter 3 - Bitterness

**AN: Lots of cynical whining occurs. Important things will actually happen next chapter. **

"You have a very lovely school here," Christie complimented the headmistress when they'd finally reached the end of their little tour, now stood outside the lockers in the modern block of the school. Whilst her comment may have come of as sarcastic judging by the narrowing of Miss Privet's eyes, she'd actually been genuinely praising the school building.

After all, it was hard not to when they had Olympic sized dance halls, top of the range computer class rooms, spas to cater for the weary, hard-working students, everything a young , pampered future princess could need. To Christie though, it was all just stuff, a bunch of really nice stuff that made her entire life seem rather small.

"Thank you, and I trust you shall enjoy your stay here," Miss Privet replied with a tight smile that made her look as if some invisible puppet master was yanking up her cheeks. "Now arriving any minute should be-" She began, but cut off when some odd little ball of blue light turned around the corner of the opposite end of the corridor and started speeding towards them, hovering in mid-air.

When it stopped, it revealed itself to be a fairy. "Christie, this is Nimphadora, she will be your personal princess assistant here at princess charm school. We have informed her of your… situation. She shall now be taking over for me," Miss Privet introduced the fairy who was grinning enthusiastically and did a little backwards somersault in the air when her name was spoken.

"A fairy," Christie captioned, staring blankly at the winged creature in the air, who was about the size of a mouse, with large eyes, tiny little fingers and pointed ears, her hair an unnatural sea-blue in colour and her outfit the same, in a lighter shade.

The headmistress didn't seem to quite see where her confusion was originating from, so she ignored that comment, smiled brightly at Nimphadora and then after giving Christie one more appraising look over, turned and marched off. "You're a fairy," Christie pointed out numbly to her new miniaturised companion.

"A magical sprite actually, and it's a pleasure to meet you," Nimphadora beamed, flicking her bouncing blue curls back behind her shoulder, the perfect picture of a friendly guide. "And you can call me Dora, or Nimph, or whatever you want, I really don't mind," She chimed cheerfully, folding her hands in her lap and blinking expectantly at Christie.

Naturally, Christie had heard rumours that this bizarre school had an unusual new student guidance programme, but a fairy? Mystical creatures from fairy-tale books weren't exactly what you'd normally expect at your new school. "Right…" Christie mumbled, glancing around for someone else to prove that she wasn't hallucinating, but the corridors were deserted.

Supposing she'd probably been drugged, Christie exhaled slowly and then watched Dora as she bobbed about in the air. If this 'magical sprite' was indeed real, then on the plus side, she was the friendliest person Christie had met, here or anywhere else. Considering how she was still dressed in her slum clothes, Christie supposed that either showed a naïve stupidity on the fairy's behalf or an unusual amount of open-minded kindness. Still, she made better company than Miss Stick up her arse.

"So Dora, what do I do now?" Christie asked in a muted tone, just in case people heard her talking to her hallucinations and thought her mad. Responding with the same eager enthusiasm as she seemed to approach everything else however, Dora flitted over to stand upon one of the lockers, gesturing at it theatrically with one arm.

"If you would please step this way, we have the enchanted locker system to help you 'get gorgeous'," Dora announced, her voice taking on a sing song quality as she clearly recited her lines.

Initially, Christie did as she was told; stepping forward to the locker she was supposed to and then hesitated, then stopped. "Enchanted?" She repeated sceptically. She hadn't drunk anything since arriving here, and as far as she could tell no one had sneakily injected her arms with needles. Maybe it was something in the air.

"Haven't you ever heard of this school's ancient bond with the sprites? We are as much a part of this school as the princesses; it's one of the most famous things about this place," Dora explained, sounding highly surprised by Christie's ignorance. "Surely you must have heard about this?"

Not wanting to reveal the fact that until early that morning, she'd never cared in the slightest about the charm school; Christie just shrugged and decided to roll with it. As a boy growing up, an all-girls school for spoilt brats had never really been an area of interest. "So I just…" Christie began, trailing off as when she stepped closer to the locker, a circular railing sprung out from its top, followed by a glitzy pink curtain drawing closed around it. "Wow, where's the carnival music?" She muttered a little darkly, as her own locker out-played her in the glamour department.

"If you would please just step inside," Dora guided brightly, going all doe-eyed and wobbly as the curtain finished forming a closed circle, apparently very excited by this. Grateful for the chance to hide somewhere, Christie pushed in through the veil of glittering pink material and found herself stood before an open locker, in which was placed two sets of school uniform that matched those of the girl's she'd seen earlier, and then pairs of everything else she could imagine, bags, make up, shoes, hairbrushes.

Whistling appreciatively, Christie mentally admitted that this was pretty impressive. Before she could actually compliment her hyperactive fairy friend however, the curtain started glowing. At first, this seemed fairly normal compared to being told a locker was enchanted and meeting a real life magical sprite, but then she started glowing too. "Umm Dora, what is this?" She inquired in a tight, strained tone as she tried not to hyperventilate about the fact that her body had just been encased in pink light.

"Well, I did tell you the locker was enchanted. " Dora giggled, now lying down on top of the locker and observing the process, waggling her legs in the air behind her.

The sensation of whatever this enchanted locker was doing was highly unnerving to say the least. Squinting due to the brightness of illumination, Christie had no idea what was happening, but began to feel a bizarre tingling sensation running like electric currents all over her skin, raising the hair there and making everything feel rather surreal. Eventually however, as Christie became confident someone had slipped her LSD, the glow died down.

Adjusting to the new light levels, Christie glanced down at herself and sucked in air. Cackling in delight, Dora rolled around above her and then flew down to sit neatly on her shoulder, crossing her legs nimbly. "It suits you," She praised her sweetly, peering down over her shoulder too look along with her.

Now adorned with the school uniform, Christie could actually pass as one of these little future ladies and queens here, the rich, soft material of the uniform fitting to her synthetic form rather nicely. As the curtain drew back, Christie stepped out and, as Dora clapped approvingly, gave a little twirl and a curtsy. "Now let's just hope no one recognises me from this morning," She drawled a little bitterly, picking at the edges of her clothes tentatively, curious as to how thick the material was, how every stitching was hand done and woven in silver thread.

Just as Christie began to think maybe she could cope in this place, the bell rang out again and flooding out from the doors came a sea of girls, all dressed identically to her. "Come on, I'll show you to your room. You're in a single room, for obvious reasons," Dora urged, still with the same blunt optimism, even as Christie spotted an unfortunately familiar head of black hair emerging from a classroom. What were the chances?

Better yet, Dora started leading her down in that very direction. Keeping her head ducked down, quite done with fighting for the day, Christie tried to subtly slip past the trio, the two blondes having quickly fallen into place behind the ebony-haired girl. "Wait a minute. Don't tell me _you_ were the lottery girl," A tragically familiar voice leered from behind her as she cut on past them.

Resisting the urge to test out some vulgar language on the little miss pretty princess, Christie ignored her and pressed on, pretending not to hear Dora as she pointed out how the girl was trying to talk to her, claiming that perhaps she could make a friend. "I'll see you later then, Christie Summers," The girl called out from behind her, not so subtly threatening her with her tone.

"Wow, you're friends with someone already, and Marian Blackthorn as well," Dora sighed dreamily, hugging herself as she flitted on beside Christie, "Did you know that she's the heir to the whole of the Arcadian kingdom?"

"I did not." Christie confessed dully, well aware that beside from a few lucky individuals, most princesses would simply inherit lands, and then be ruled over by a higher queen, which in this case seemed to be Marian, her new 'friend'. So it seemed she'd pissed off the queen bee. Excellent.

Her room turned out to be tucked away in the middle of nowhere, in a tower of the girl's dormitory block that's lower rooms were used for storage, which suited Christie just fine considering how it was quite clear that she was going to be remembered solely for her little showdown that morning. Still, if being the alienated slutty girl meant people would steer clear of her, she supposed that suited her all the better, in order to keep her little secret safe.

As over the top and lavish as the rest of the palace, her room was furnished with a writing desk that was set in front of the huge french windows and doors that lead onto a patio, a four-poster bed, plentiful shelving and there was even an en suite. It seemed bizarre how here, luxury dripped from every tiny detail and yet only five miles away in the central city, everything was slowly being devoured by poverty and a souring public attitude. The world was a pretty fucked up place.

The fucked-up factor increased however, when they were given training tiaras. Having all been gathered for the introductory speech for that year, all the future little princesses and lady royals had been sat down on silver chairs before a grandstand, upon which was a podium, equipped with a microphone.

Having been quite clearly labelled someone to avoid, Christie had found herself with both chairs beside her empty, as she sat at the back. Still, there was no time to sulk, so she sat up straight and tried to look attentive. No matter how determined she was to appear bold and confident however, when Dora flew over and dropped a little flimsy silver circlet down over her head, she couldn't help falling into a stunned stupor. "What is this?" She hissed quietly to her magical sprite assistant, who seemed to have taken to sitting on her shoulder.

"It's your training tiara," Dora chimed in helpfully, straining herself to see over the mass of heads and watch as Miss Privet stepped up onto the stage.

"What for, I'm not going to become a princess?" Christie pointed out irritably, watching as all the other students gazed on at the headmistress with a truly devoted loyalty, their eyes slightly glazed. They looked somewhat brainwashed.

As expected, Miss Privet made the usual welcoming speech, wonderfully generic and easy to block out as Christie instead focused on smiling back sweetly every time one of the girls glanced back at her to give her dirty looks. She was sure they were all going to be the best of friends.

"Of course, not all of you will make it," Miss Privet sighed, putting a little bit too much disappointed despair in her voice, and then with all the grace in the world gave Christie a rather pointed look, "but I know that if you all try your best, you will succeed," She beamed warmly, putting the American dream very nicely into her little speech. Resisting rolling her eyes in a cynical manner, Christie sat through the rest of the speech, raising her eyebrows at little at the woman named Dame Devin, who was so bad at acting and clearly rather self-deluded that Christie was surprised she'd been allowed to work with children.

Still, all miserably torturous things have to come to an end, so eventually Christie was allowed to escape back to her room, flopping down on the bed in exhaustion. Dora had disappeared off somewhere, so finally, after all the chaos and bitching, she was alone. Forcing herself to sit up, she rubbed her eyes groggily and then swiftly began unbuttoning her waistcoat, her shirt, and then unclipped the bra strap, removing the thing and flexing her shoulder, uncomfortable from having had to wear it for so long.

Slipping off of the bed, she paced over to stand before the full length mirror twisting around to observe her reflection. Finally, she was back to being male. Something felt inherently wrong about being female outside of work, as though that part of him was seeping into his personal life. He exhaled and unpinned the wig, ruffling his short bleached-blonde hair around his head.

Done being grumpy, having mentally bitched about everything quite enough, he supposed now he had to knuckle down and actually do this. The desirable salary of a Lady Royal lay at the end of the trail, but first he'd have to pass these tests, and keep his true sex hidden. Not only that, he'd have to resist ripping Marian to shreds, since she doubted lady royals were allowed to be wanted criminals too.

Stretching himself out, he flashed an encouraging grin at himself in the mirror and then ran over and leapt up onto the bed, spreading his arms out to the side before crashed down upon it.

This... was certainly going to be interesting.


	4. Chapter 4 - Underdog

**AN: _Exciting_ _action_ chapter, there's "epic" duels and the mysterious blondes even get names. I actually own those wonderfully stereotypical characters and thus will try to develop them a bit better in later chapters, I promise... and thank you for Shizuku Tsukishima749 for giving advise on grammar and punctuation for this, I would otherwise be completel****y lost... :)**

With the arrival of the next day, Christian felt a rather nauseating blend of nerves, anticipation and dread. Yesterday had been bad enough, and that had simply consisted of brief encounters and wrangling his way in here. Today entailed _actual _lessons, with his new fantastically welcoming classmates. He simply couldn't be more enthusiastic.

Still, he had the quiet of the morning to prepare himself in, both mentally and physically. The en suite baths were not to go underappreciated either, especially considering how he'd set his alarm two hours early to test them out, and they did not disappoint.

Whilst he was used to the cheapest bottle of best value shampoo and soap two-in-one, lined up along the side of the bathtub –which was more akin to a Jacuzzi, square in shape and with real, working air jets on the bottom and sides, which occupied Christian for a good twenty minutes- were sixteen tiny little bottles, like the sorts they provided in hotels, of excessively luxurious soaps and shampoos, each a different colour and a different scent. Admittedly, Christian may have gone slightly over the top by the end, when all the bottles had been emptied, the bath water was an odd greenish blue colour and he closely resembled a prune.

Not that it's healing powers had failed, he was pretty confident that by the time he'd climbed out and towelled off, he'd never been so relaxed in his life. So great was its power that he was barely even thinking about the delightful Marian as he clipped the bra over his chest and tucked the implants in, and when she slipped out of her room and went down to the food court for breakfast, she was perfectly able to ignore the undisguised stares and gossiping. Having been a hooker for two years, she was more than used to having to deal with other people and their judgemental attitudes.

Sitting on her own at breakfast, Christie felt she did a fairly good job of giving everyone who was glaring at her the most patronising, beaming grins possible and downed her food in two minutes flat, escaping as soon as possible. One meal down, only a year's worth to go.

Bumping into her face as she opened the door out of the food court, Dora crashed into her and a dazzling display of blue sparkles spattered off of her from the collision, blinding Christie entirely so she ended up walking into the door. Erupting behind her were the quick giggles and whispers of everyone who had witnessed the act of such elegance. Christie had been able to handle being thought of as a slut or slum trash, but that did not mean she was going to let them think her an idiot.

Brushing herself off and straightening, she continued quickly out and had to count to ten in her head before being able to speak civilly to Dora. "I am so, so sorry," Dora apologised sheepishly, over and over again, and since she was the nicest person Christie knew here, and her only friend, she naturally had to forgive her.

"It's fine," She sighed, the effects of the bath wearing off as reality set back in. "Any idea where my next lesson is?" She inquired hopefully, since whilst the tour had been just lovely, she couldn't remember where absolutely anything was. Naturally the food court was the exception to that rule, since it was, well, _food_, and even her memory had its priorities.

Seemingly overjoyed with the chance to prove her worth, Dora did another one of her odd little backflips in the air and then spun around, another shower of sparkles floating off of her and then they clustered together, glowed bright for a moment and then with a little popping noise, turned into a sheet of pink, laminated A5 paper, which required Dora's full arm span to hold it. First she looked at it and then flew over to hand to it Christie, making a little groaning noise as she did so. "Poise lessons, and first thing in the morning too," She grumbled moodily, her sulks just as energetic as her cheers as she folded her arms across her chest and pouted dramatically.

Smirking subtly to herself, because the whole idea of being taught poise and proper things like that amused a commoner like her, Christie glanced over her new timetable. She did indeed have poise lessons scheduled first thing on that Wednesday morning. "Where exactly is the dance hall?" She asked, trying to recall which of the huge, Olympic sized rooms had been dubbed the dance hall. After the first few rooms of gaping at how over-sized everything was, things had begun to blur into one another, all rather overwhelming.

"Modern block, east wing," Dora recalled with a military like precision, springing out of her sulk just as easily as she had slipped into it and quickly whizzing off to lead the way. Having finished breakfast far faster than anyone else, all the other little princesses and lady royals in trainings having clearly been trained to eat with delicacy and grace whilst she'd learnt to consume what she had as fast as possible to avoid it getting pinched by Emile, Christie was able to head over to her first lesson with relative ease, the few people she encountered too tired or too caught up in chatting to their friends to even give her a decent appraising look over.

As predicted, the dance hall was far larger than could possibly be necessary, decorated in the same blue, purple and pink hues as the rest of the modern block, yet ornate pillars had been put in place to try and give it that 'authentic' feel. Standing awkwardly in the corner whilst she waited for the rest of her peers to arrive along with whoever their teacher was, Christie once again experienced the sensation of being rather insignificant compared to how massive everything here was. Yet she was never going to survive here if she felt sorry for herself, so she straightened her back and kept her head up.

Gaggling together in the centre of the room, each new arrival would go over and find her friends and a spot to stand in, and then without fail, each one would turn to look over at her. Eventually Christie got rather fed up with the malice or amusement in their expressions, so she walked on over to join them, to see if she could play on their basic human decency to not discuss her to her face.

Why on earth she'd expected that much from these people though, she had no idea, especially since the three people she'd ended up walking to stand behind were two familiar blonde heads, and then soon joining them came Marian, who gave Christie a bemused smirk before joining her little followers. With no hesitation whatsoever, they began discussing her in hushed, yet somehow still very loud voices. "She's a street rat, you know what they're always like, they can barely put one foot in front of the other," One of the blondes sniggered, earning a slap on the shoulder from the other blonde and a giggle from Marian.

"Jean quiet, she might hear you," The other blonde scolded her, snickering all the same.

"So what if she does? Lottery girls never make it through the first term, let alone the year. We may as well have our fun whilst we can." Marian drawled confidently, now shamelessly looking over at Christie and raising her eyebrows.

Cutting through the two blondes to stand directly before Christie, Marian flicked her hair back behind her shoulders, straightened herself out and then narrowed her eyes, clearly readying herself to attack. "Christie, it is Christie isn't it? We're very honoured to have you at our school," Marian purred, giving Christie nothing to argue with or use against her. Perhaps it was rather sad that Christie found her fake niceness far worse than her open bitchiness, like back at home where everyone was comfortable with openly swearing at and insulting one another, and then it would all get brushed over.

Quickly garnering the curiosity of the other gathered students, Marian used the attention to her advantage. "Won't everyone give Christie a proper princess charm school welcome?" She enquired of her audience, turning round to look at them before once again facing Christie. The first to move, Marian dipped down into a very proper, very formal curtsey, even dropping her eyes. Following her, some eagerly and some hesitantly, the rest of the students mimicked Marian, curtseying with all the poise and elegance of true, well-bred princesses.

Christie had never in her life been taught to curtsey, and could tell that although it was completely beyond what she was used to, this little ritual of theirs was somehow trying to show her up. Clearly, based on their speech and attitudes, they thought everyone from the slums were incompetent whores, who hadn't a shred of character or grace.

Letting the rest of them all straighten so they could watch her properly, Christie gave Marian her sweetest smile before perfectly repeating her curtsey, careful to drop her eyes, to keep her posture delicate and not to wobble as she dipped down. Upon resurfacing, she found the irritated tick Marian was sporting indicated that she'd managed to pull it off, turning Marian's little poise-off around on her. "Thank you for your kindness, Marian," She simpered back, perhaps going a little overboard with the sarcasm, but it was clear from the disappointed or agitated expressions on the rest of their faces that just because she could copy their curtseying sufficiently, it didn't mean they were all going to be friends.

Arriving moments after that came their teacher, a woman Christie recognised as the rather comically _'evil'_ dame Devin, dressed in a glamorous skin-tight gown that Christie couldn't think very useful or walking in, let alone working on your poise. "Girls," She called to them, clapping her hands together to draw their attention away from Christie, "welcome to your first lesson in poise. Marian, if you would go and fetch the books from the cupboard, Jean, Abigail, you two help her. The rest of you, please gather around and listen carefully, I will not tolerate any misbehaviour or anyone failing to perform as I expect them to." She ordered quickly, speaking with a brisk precision that hurriedly jolted everyone out of confronting Christie and to slip back into being good, obedient students.

Trailing along behind everyone else as Marian and her two blondes, Jean and Abigail, ventured over to fetch the books from a cupboard in the corner, Christie only half listened as dame Devin rambled on and on about the importance of poise, how it defined a woman and gave her power. Her lack of focus meant she forgot to stop herself snorting at the irony when their teacher announced that poise was something that gave women the upper hand when among men. Having earned herself more glares with that little slip up, she managed to keep quiet for the rest of it, surviving the speech at least.

Spending an hour of her life every week learning to balance books on her head seemed rather alien though, but then she'd always been a bit of a cynic towards the education system. Classifying this as education was rather new to her too, but then since these women were all learning to become rulers or pretty dolls, she doubted things such as science and math were necessary, which in all honesty was a relief; she'd always been awful in normal citizen school.

Feeling as though every pair of eyes were scrutinising her, waiting expectantly for her to live up to their expectations, Christie plucked a book up from the table they'd been displayed upon and after glancing around to try and make her peers at least feel guilty for being so obvious in their judgement of her, she placed it upon her head. Whilst the others around her wobbled about, awkwardly trying to keep their books on their heads, contorting their bodies everywhere in a rather unladylike fashion to keep their balance, Christie just stood there, trying to get a feel for the book.

Whilst she could not claim to ever have thought that balancing a book on her head was a great idea, although she'd done it a few times when she was bored or as a joke, she liked to think this was something she could manage, albeit for the entirely wrong reasons. As a prostitute, your income relied on several factors, one of those being how attractive your clients found you, obviously, and another being how good you were at sex, as this determined reputation and repeat customers.

Hence the reason serious prostitutes worked out. Working in the niche market for transgendered prostitutes recently, although she had started out as a male, Christie had done her research and knew the kind of attributes that went down well for her target clients. Flexibility, balance, elegance and femininity all worked rather well, since they all seemed to enjoy the illusion she created, and then stripping that off later. Which was why, although she couldn't exactly claim she'd done it for 'educational purposes', Christie had built up her poise and endurance rather accidentally, simply through her efforts to become a successful hooker.

"Christie Summers don't just stand there, move!" Dame Devin barked aggressively from her viewing position at the end of the hall, overseeing them all as they embarrassed themselves. Exhaling in a whistle as she tried to focus on using her attributes to her advantage, wishing Dora was there to do her whole cheerleader routine instead of being off doing other magical sprite things, Christie took a careful step forwards.

Bordering on arrogance, she quickly found that this was nowhere near as hard as the others were making it out to be. So long as she was careful and moved intelligently, the book stayed perfectly still on her head. In fact, the biggest danger was that if it fell, it could slip her wig with it, and that threat only made her focus more. Concentrating so hard she barely even noticed the curiosity of her peers, she helped herself to another book, as dame Devin had instructed if they were feeling confident, and then a few minutes later, another.

That was when the competition began. Who else would be talented at this other than the perfect, flawless Marian, who had started out on three books and had now worked her way up to four? Only once Christie had reached five books did she notice that Marian was watching her intently, eyeing her books and posture. Moving with all the sophistication of a well-bred young lady, Marian glided over to the table and helped herself to another two books, over taking Christie by one.

Rather enjoying some healthy competition, which was vastly preferable to bitching at the girl, Christie slowly placed another book upon the pile that was forming on her head, froze when she felt it wobble a little and then at snail pace, topped it off with another book, bringing it to the grand total of seven. It wasn't enough to just balance them however, she had to prove she could walk with them, and after giving herself a little mental prep speech about how she would be forever ridiculed and put down if she fucked this up, she put her hands out to the side slightly and moved.

It worked, it actually worked! Unable to bounce up and down on her heels childishly as she wanted to as the book tower didn't come toppling down, Christie bit down on her lip to stop herself babbling about the achievement and then kept going, determination turning into pure stubbornness.

Perhaps it was rather conceited and cruel that she felt a rush of achievement and smugness when the sound of several crashing books could be heard behind her. Turning gradually so as not to meet the same fate, she rotated to see Marian stood amongst a pile of fallen books, clearly seething with her fists clenched at her sides.

"Marian, pick those up and start again with one," Dame Devin drawled dryly, interrupting the silence that had fallen across the hall, every student having turned to watch the outcome of the contest, most having taken their books from their head and were holding them in their hands mournfully in respect for their fallen unspoken leader. Nodding silently, flushing scarlet, Marian squatted down and started gathering up her books, scowling moodily. Christie almost felt sorry for her, and against her better judgement sighed, took the books off from her head and set them back down on the table, and then went over to help her fallen opponent.

"I don't need help, lottery girl," Marian snapped bitterly when she approached and tried to offer her one of the books that had been thrown furthest, its spine slightly cracked from the fall.

"I'm just giving you your book back," Christie pointed out flatly, quickly realising this attempt to appease her opponent was going to be rather futile.

Snatching the book out from her hands, Marian gave her a filthy glare, glanced over at dame Devin and then decided against making a comment and stormed off, dumping the spare books back on the table and then placing the reaming one upon her head, ignoring everyone else as she balanced it perfectly. "Congratulations, you beat the boss level," Snickered a rather grave voice behind Christie, which somehow managed to sound solemn despite being quite clearly amused.

Turning, Christie found one of the other students had actually talked to her, and she could be wrong, but she thought that it was almost a compliment. Christie didn't recognise her as anyone Dora had pointed out, nor had she seen her hanging out with Marian at all, so she suppose that granted her a little bit of hope. With dark chocolate skin and black hair in a bob, the girl had a rather memorable appearance with heavy, decorative black makeup around her eyes and she was probably the only person Christie had seen here to have a piercing, a silver stud at the bottom of one lip.

The pierced girl did not say anything else however; she just gave Christie a look over like everyone else did, shrugged, and then walked off, no book on her head or in her hands. Nor did she sit next to her at lunch, in which Christie sat in stony silence whilst Marian whispered very rapidly to her gathered admirers, her words rather unkind judging by the mix of amusement and shock on her audience's faces and her cruel expression.

Real trouble came however in the last three lessons; Maths, Chemistry and English. Whilst this time she was not challenged to any exciting duel of book balancing by her peers, she was instead very much aware that next time these lessons came around, her teachers were most likely to have a very public discussion with her about the fact that she hadn't written a single answer –or certainly not a correct one-, and by the time English came around she was doodling hopelessly in her margins, and then was forced to reluctantly hand in her exercise book at the end.

Her patience had run out by the end of the day, so she skipped dinner, giving a rather lame excuse to Dora about how she was feeling unwell, and then crawled back into bed, exhausted from having to try and work out what a quadratic formula even was, and from deciphering all the equations her chemistry teacher had gifted her with. Homework was assigned here in great quantities and with short deadlines, but her bag containing her exercise sheets had been dumped alone in the corner of the room, which she was now scrutinising accusingly. There was going to be hell to be paid for her failure, she was sure enough of that, but for now, sleep was too tempting an escape to pass up.


	5. Chapter 5 - Pull Your Socks Up

**A/N: Short chapter, because I'm lazy and because I can now promise that this will be the end of Christie's streak of bitterness. **

A week; so far she'd managed to survive a whole week. Surprising everyone else, the lessons that were new to her such as poise class, dance and even dining lessons went rather well. Since the occasional upper-class clients that wanted the girlfriend experience from her before sex sometimes required her to know how to behave at formal dinners or how to dance -and after one particularly embarrassing occasion- she'd fortunately taught herself which spoons and forks to use when and how to masterfully copy the manners of those around her.

Following the same pattern as her first day however, she found she was completely stunted by her other classes, which were all years beyond what she'd even been taught, let alone remembered. Physics consisted of just a load of words and diagrams that meant nothing to her, in history she knew bits and pieces but had no idea about most of it, her general knowledge appallingly lacking in depth, and in biology her only strength was that she out-foxed everyone when it came down to the reproductive system and organs, but that only seemed to further their negative opinion of her.

To make matters even more blindingly worse, she was still treated as though she had the plague. True, she no longer received so many glares as she did simple, curious glances, but most of her peers seemed entirely unwilling to speak with her, as she had been labelled a notorious slut and trouble maker. The only exception to this was the pierced dark-haired girl who'd spoken to her in her first poise lesson, who she now knew as Isabelle. They weren't exactly friends, more neutral acquaintances who would share looks whenever anyone did anything painfully obvious to single her out, or whenever she proved herself, but it never went beyond a few simple words.

With her failings in her academic classes however, Christie was hardly surprised when she was given an invitation to visit the head teacher's office after lessons on the Friday of her second week there. Caught up in a tizzy of nerves and panic by the invite, Dora had been a complete mess that day and wouldn't shut up about it, so by the end of classes every student in the school knew that the lottery girl was off to see the head mistress, and naturally the rumour that she was finally getting kicked out had circulated rather quickly.

When she and Isabelle left Dance together at the end of the school day, not really talking but walking together, joined in their isolation, Isabelle simply gave her an affectless shrug, a prominent mannerism of hers, and then turned off, leaving her to fend for herself. Blocking out Dora's ramblings, which were just making her stomach heave in fear, Christie marched through the sea of students who were all flowing in the opposite direction, ignoring their whispers as they addressed the fact that they knew exactly where she was going and headed over to the old block, eventually reaching the headmistress's office.

Knocking twice to prove she was on her best behaviour, she waited for Miss Privet to call her in and then slipped through the door, doing her best to somehow look both pitiful and yet brave at the same time, so she could settle with either one depending on why she'd been called here. Hopefully there'd be some way to salvage this.

Sat in her chair facing away from her so she was obscured by its back, Miss Privet sighed audibly and then rotated the chair round to regard her levelly, unfortunately not stroking a cat on her lap, despite Christie's wishes to discover she was secretly in a bond film. "Christie, please, take a seat," The headmistress advised, gesturing to the upright, wooden chair positioned before her desk that simply looked uncomfortable, and she hadn't even sat on it yet.

Used to slouching, because you got no reward for acting like a preened princess in the slums other than lewd comments or a punch, Christie fidgeted awkwardly in the chair and waited for her roasting to begin. "Christie, it has become apparent that by the end of the term, you will have flunked all of your academic classes," Miss Privet announced boldly, captioning what Christie already knew, and her tone suggested she was doing her very best not to sound smug.

"Now, whilst your princess training classes take priority, it is of great importance that a young lady have an educated mind and knowledge of the world around her, so that she can govern it correctly," The headmistress continued, slipping into the cycle of a speech that was clearly well rehearsed. "Whilst you may only be training to be a lady royal, it is a role that requires you to advise the future leaders of the world, so we expect intelligence and dedication to be shown by all out students."

Resisting being extraordinarily childish and mimicking her, the way Emile had whenever she'd told him off, Christie gave her head teacher a tight-lipped but civil smile. "Forgive me ma'am, these classes are new to me. I am still adjusting," She apologised, trying to grovel as best as she could without sounding too pathetic.

"Yes well, I know from your records that you dropped out of school at the age of fourteen, which was a rather unfortunate mistake, not to mention_ illegal_," Miss Privet sniffed haughtily, looking down her nose at the transgendered student before her and showing rather obviously that she did not like what she saw.

Biting down on her lower lip, trying to hold back the irritation that flared up in response to the clear judgement she was receiving from this snobbish woman, Christie squirmed uncomfortably and tried to compose herself. It wouldn't do to get herself thrown out just for being sassy, so she'd have to try and control her attitude. "My family circumstances required it ma'am," Christie explained shortly, averting her eyes from the woman when she glanced over at her, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, I heard about your mother," She sniffed, her eyes moving up and down Christie's body and she pursed her lips. "Although there is no record of you ever holding a job, so I do not understand how it helped in the slightest." Of course there was no record of her job, it was hardly as if you registered as a prostitute, especially not when you were self-employed, fourteen and terrified of what you were doing. "But then it is not the policy of the school to pry, so I shall not ask."

Stacking the papers that lay on the desk before her into a neat pile, although they'd been perfectly square beforehand, so Christie had a feeling she'd just done that for dramatic effect, Miss Privet seemed to have moved on from insulting her, so Christie thought maybe she shouldn't point out that she was doing a great job of not prying by researching her entire life history. "I will give you up to the end of term to pick your grade average up to a C standard. By the end of the year, in order to pass, you shall need an average of a seventy-five percent score or above in the final exams," Miss Privet informed her factually, tucking a loose lock of hair behind an ear and then she gave Christie another one of those analytical look overs. "Mind that you stay out of trouble too," She added as an afterthought, which left Christie feeling mildly insulted.

On that cheerful note, Christie excused herself and slipped out of the office, smiling at Dora who'd been waiting impatiently outside. "Well, how was it?" She asked, hiccupping from nerves as she bobbed up and down in mid-air, her wings twitching neurotically.

"I'm fucked." Christie replied shortly, rolling her eyes at the over-dramatic reaction the sprite had to her choice of language.

Recovering eventually, the fairy flew forwards to catch up with her as she headed back to her dorm room, having decided she could always try to drown herself in multi-flavoured soapy bathwater. "What did she want to see you about?" Dora inquired hesitantly, seeming to have shied somewhat after Christie's swearing.

"My appalling grades in anything that involves actual brainwork," Christie sighed, shrugging lethargically, "I suppose this will at least confirm everyone's idea that I am an idiot."

Chewing on her tiny little thumb, Dora mulled that over as she sat down on Christie's shoulder, hiding in amongst her curls. "Why don't you ask someone to tutor you?" She proposed, making Christie snort, almost laughing despite her bad mood.

"Yeah, because people are just lining up all over the school to spend some extra time with me," Christie muttered darkly, smirking at her own little piece of imagery. Oh god, she'd been so deprived of social, sane company for so long that she'd resorted to laughing at her own jokes. If she wasn't careful, she'd end up painting a face on an inanimate object and talking to it.

"I'm sure you'll find someone!" Dora replied cheerfully, always the optimist.

"Yep," Christie shot back with aggressive enthusiasm, biting her own words, sarcasm dripping from them, "I'm sure there's someone."


	6. Chapter 6 - Lower Regions

**A/N: Because this was bound to happen one day. The laws of convenient plot devices demand it be so.**

One week after that particularly uncomfortable meeting with her headmistress, Christie found herself even more out of place than usual as the rest of her classmates were all in an excited tizzy. Gathered for their Friday afternoon dance lesson, the rest of her class were all swarming about in a little gang in the middle of the dance hall, chatting amongst themselves eagerly.

Christie had only to dapple in a spot of eavesdropping to understand the excitement. It was wonderful how stereotypical these teenage girls were, since it became apparent within only a few seconds that the cause for all the bustling and giggling was _boys_.

Situated next door to the grounds of Barbie Princess Charm School was Prince Charming school, the male equivalent of their very own institute and it was organised so that every week after the first four, once the girls were deemed ready, the princes and gentlemen royals in training would come over and dance with the young princesses and lady royals in training. Christie could practically feel the oestrogen suffocating her as the girls all jiggled and chatted in excitement.

Christie supposed they were allowed their rush of hormones, considering how they attended an all-girls boarding school and had probably only ever seen boys on the television or in magazines if they all had the over-protective, snooty parents Christie imagined them to be in possession of. Still, it only resulted in Christie's further alienation, since she found herself incapable of working herself up into a state just because some spotty adolescents were coming to grace them with their testosterone-filled presence.

Something that had surprised Christie in her four weeks of attending the school had been that the most useful of all the girls were the two blonde minions of Marian, named Jean and Abigail. Jean, the aggressive one, was captain of the lacrosse team and yet also managed to be top of the class in most subjects, whilst Abigail appeared quieter and meeker, but revealed herself to have the sharpest tongue Christie had ever encountered, a natural gossiper and very talented at stirring up rumours. Together they both seemed to know everything that happened, ever, so Christie went to stand on her own behind them, listening in on their conversation to try and gauge something useful.

"Oh gosh, I hope I get partnered with Alex," Abigail sighed dreamily, doing her best too look like a swooning Disney princess as she cupped her face with her hands.

"Agreed. He's the only one of them who actually knows where to put his feet," Jean nodded briskly, a competitive grin on her face as she glanced around at the other girls, eyeing them as if they were animals waiting for slaughter. Christie had noticed by now that Jean liked to win, in everything. It made her wonder why she was such close friends with Marian, who as queen bee, was naturally the winner of most things. Perhaps it was the age old saying of 'keep your friends close, but your enemies closer' coming into play…

Shaking herself out of that unhelpful train of thought, Christie tried to listen back in to see if she could pick up on who to snake her way over towards, not wanting a partner who'd fail her in one of the few classes she was decent in. "And so good looking," Abigail added gleefully, visibly blushing. Perhaps she wasn't just putting on an innocent act like usual, Christie thought to herself, the girl seemed genuinely love-struck.

"And smart," Jean supplied, smiling a little more softly this time, which for her was pretty impressive.

"And he's so funny. You know at the summer ball up north held by his parents, he had everyone laughing for ten minutes straight!" Abigail squeaked, definitely not her usual conniving self.

Sighing quietly, it seemed Christie wasn't going to get much from them other than repetitive fan-girling, but she supposed it allowed her the perfect opportunity to be a cynic. Anyone who was that well-advertised had to be an arrogant prick, with an ego the size of the country he was due to inherit. Those types probably went very well down amongst royals though, with their confidence and their charm. Shivering, Christie made a mental note to avoid the creeper people referred to as Prince Alex. Having someone who couldn't dance was better than someone unbearable.

Whilst she'd been mentally muttering to herself, the recent isolation definitely having a negative effect on her sanity, the two blondes had suddenly become rather morose. "Yeah, but you know he's Marian's," Jean reminded the girl beside her, her tone rather biting and dark.

"A girl can dream can't she?" Abigail smiled sadly, twiddling her blonde hair around a finger and casting her gaze elsewhere to do just that.

"Why should it matter if Marian likes him?" Christie wondered, not realising she'd done so aloud until the two girls turned back to scowl at her.

"I suppose to someone like _you_, it wouldn't matter," Abigail hissed irritably, tugging on Jean's arm to try and move away from her.

"Slut," Jean spat as a parting comment before complying and moving off to go and chat with some other girls, since Marian still had yet to arrive.

Perhaps the three girls were closer than Christie had presumed, but she couldn't help feeling it was more than that. Marian clearly wasn't dating him, or she'd show it more; Christie was well practised in recognising when people were in love, and Marian gave absolutely no signs of it. Mainly, Christie was sure the pair were not going out due to the fact that the dark-haired princess had never tried to shove the fact that they were down Christie's throat before in one of their little verbal fights. He was clearly considered a great asset, so it was the kind of thing Marian would love to flaunt to try and get to her.

Shrugging to herself, probably looking very odd to everyone else, Christie supposed it was just her reputation making people jump to assumptions. Honestly, Christie had never really been in a tight-knit circle of friends before, so she failed entirely to understand those rules that were traditional in such a group. Either way, she was feeling oddly uncomfortable and unsettled when at last boys started filtering into the dance hall, met with a collective intake of breath from the girls.

It showed that the boys were just as worked up about this as the girls, as they stuttered and stumbled about as they sought partners, some finding ones quickly and others had to ask several girls multiple times, getting more and more flustered with every time they had to pop the question. Hanging back, Christie watched it all unfurl, curious to observe these young royals in action. There was something fascinating about seeing them all so vulnerable, compared to how cold they usually were towards her.

Of course, the result of her distraction was that she ended up without a partner, which was rather awkward. Marian, who despite having entered late, ended up partnered with the most handsome and well-built boy in the room, who Christie presumed was the famous Alex. Now put on the spot, Christie blinked back at the mass of people, quickly realising that due to an uneven number of boys and girls, there were no more partners even available for her.

Spotting her, Miss Privet, who taught the dance lessons, bit back a smile and then raised her eyebrows. "Christie, it seems you'll have to sit this one out, if you would please step-" Miss Privet began to instruct, but was cut short when the door to the dance hall opened again and a new male emerged from it.

"Sorry I'm late Miss Privet, I got a bit lost," The boy joked easily, laughing in a nervous, self-depreciating manner that earned him several chuckles from the class gathered before him.

"Punctuality is just as important as everything else Alex, but yes, come on in," The headmistress allowed, gesturing for him to come and join them.

So this was the famous Alex. Christie supposed she could see what they meant; he was rather annoyingly generically good looking, with noble, clean-cut features, dark curly hair and bright blue eyes. Surprising Christie however was that he wasn't smiling constantly and he didn't move with the self-confidence she would have expected from the rumours, but perhaps the presence of_ females_ had unsettled him from his game.

"I'm afraid there aren't any- oh wait," Miss Privet began to apologise before remembering Christie, frowning as she did so. The time she took considering allowing them to be partnered together was more than a little offensive, but in the end she shrugged. "You'll be partnered with Christie. If you could all get into first position," She instructed, clapping her hands together and setting the couples all into motion.

Whilst Christie had been set against Alex, and had now been assigned him as a partner with a degree of classic irony, she couldn't help feeling rather smug when she put one hand on his shoulder and the other was scooped up in one of his. Even without looking over, she could feel Marian and several other people glowering mutinously over at her. Naturally it would only fuel her reputation as a notorious slut, despite the situation being quite out of her hands, but if they were going to antagonise her anyway, she may as well have some fun with it.

Up close, Alex wasn't so perfect, he had slightly too squared features and his blue eyes were flecked with grey, but since unlike everyone else, Christie wasn't revelling in his charming good looks, she was quite content with her new partner. "I'm Alex," He greeted her with a smooth, friendly smile that was a little too much on the charming side for her tastes, but was better than everyone else's 'I am holier than thou' attitudes, so she smiled back.

"Christie."

Music started up and as the male, Alex led, guiding them in and out amongst the other couples with the flawless ease Jean had spoken of. It was rather relaxing too, he didn't seem to be expecting any kind of conversation out of her and all she had to do was let him move the both of them and that was it. She barely had to think at all.

Of course, if she had been paying closer attention, what unfolded next might never had happened. She was busy focusing on smiling sweetly at Marian, who was sending her daggers with her eyes, when her feet went completely out of her control. Used to leading when she'd been paired up with other girls, she'd been out of practise in being led, so she couldn't quite recall how to save herself from this, so within an instant she was plummeting down to the floor in a very ungraceful, unladylike manner.

Having flung her arms out to try and stop herself getting a concussion, Christie thought that perhaps she'd successfully saved herself when she realised she was hovering several centimetres up from the ground and her arms were still out by her sides. Within the next few seconds, she became far, far more aware of the fact that a hand was in a place it definitely should not be.

In an attempt to catch her as she'd fallen, it seemed Alex and dived out to support her, securing one hand around the top of her back, whilst another had moved to catch her waist. It had missed however, overshooting ever so slightly, and instead had caught her around the top of her thigh on one leg, so his fingers had wrapped around the inside.

Had Christie been a female in sex, this would have been incredibly awkward, but nothing serious. She'd probably have gotten a good few laughs out of Marian's distress over the whole incident. Instead however, Christie had been born a male in sex, and thus Alex's hand was now definitely in contact with something that had probably taken him by surprise.

In fact, it had definitely taken him by surprise, since he dropped her almost immediately and then clutched the hand that had been in her private area, staring at her in horror. Everyone else in the room had fallen silent, watching them as the most desirable male had caught the most hated female, ignorant as to why Alex looked quite so violated, although he wasn't the one who had just been touched in a rather intimate place.

Moving quickly, her mind lurching into overdrive, Christie brought herself up into a squat and then stood, brushing herself down swiftly. Miss Privet clearly hadn't seen the fall and catch in full detail, as she looked entirely disinterested, looking over at everyone else and then calling for them to start dancing again, as most had drawn to a halt to watch. Despite Miss Privet's casual manner however, Christie could recall very clearly that the condition of her continued stay at the school was that the other students could not find out, and since the girls and boys schools were interlinked, she presumed that also applied to the students of Prince Charming School. If Miss Privet never knew about it though, perhaps she'd get away with her little slip up?

Quickly grabbing Alex back into the dance position, Christie decided it was time to push her reputation as a slut. Drawing the two of them close together so it would be considered romantic from a third-person perspective, Christie didn't even have time to smirk in response to the whispers that were the result of her 'daring' behaviour. Instead, she took a firm grasp on Alex's arm and brought her lips close to his ear, so only he could hear her whisper.

"Don't breathe a word prince-boy, or you'll find yourself in a rather large amount of trouble with the school board." Christie lied tightly. She very much doubted that Miss Privet would be at all displeased if someone exposed her, giving her the excuse to remove her from her fine establishment, but she would pretend, for the sakes of getting this idiot to keep quiet.

"You," He stuttered, visibly shaken from the encounter with Christie's lower regions, "You're a boy."

"Actually, for the purposes of this school, I identify as a girl, and I would appreciate it if you respected my life choices," Christie replied coolly, a mask of perfectly calm composure on her face whilst inside her heard was going double-time.

"I don't understand."

Sighing, Christie wondered how she was supposed to enlighten a sheltered teenage boy to the world of the transgendered in the remainder of their dance lesson. "Miss Privet has stated that she'd prefer other people not to know of my sex, so you'd do best not to tell anyone about it," She warned him, trying to sound as intimidating as was possible towards a man who had just caught her after falling like a complete idiot.

"But- I don't- How are you here? This is an all-girls school," He pointed out numbly, stammering an awful lot. Poor pampered prince was probably going into shock, and Christie couldn't help grinning, enjoying the torture ever so slightly.

"As I said, I am a girl. As you may know, transgendered people are no longer classified as having a mental disease or disorder, thus I am technically recognised as being just as much of a girl as the rest of my classmates." Christie was pretty satisfied with her little rant, and it seemed to shut Alex up for a good few moments as he chewed that one over.

Nothing good ever lasted though, so soon he broke the silence. "And no one else knows?" He inquired, sounding as if he were choking on his own words.

"No one save Miss Privet, my magical sprite buddy and now you," Christie confirmed with a tight nod, drawing back from him slightly now that it seemed they'd laid down the ground rules.

"That is so messed up," Alex muttered to himself, bunching his face up as he tried to get over what he had just learnt, and despite the fact that he was apparently at least trying to understand, Christie couldn't help having her usual bitter reaction to people's problems with her decisions.

"No, it's not. It's perfectly acceptable, and any problem you have with it is born out of unwarranted prejudice," She snipped hotly, too riled up by this for her own good, but then she was a teenager still, so she could just blame hormones.

Whilst she'd expected him to say something delightfully stupid or cruel back so she would inevitably end up being rude, unbefitting of a young lady royal, Alex just glanced over at her, frowning deeper. "Sorry, it's all just rather…" His apology trailed off as he searched for the right word; although Christie was too busy being taken aback by the fact that someone here, in this gathering of snobs and spoilt brats, had said the word sorry to her to care, "new." He finished awkwardly, wincing slightly as he thought about just what it was that was new to him.

Figuring he'd earned it for not being a total asshole, Christie gave him a winning grin. "Well then, I shall do my best to help you get used to it." She assured him, the threat ever so subtle and he didn't seem to notice it as he just stood there, forced to dance with her, wearing a look of badly disguised terror. Still, they'd only have to see each other every Friday afternoon for a mere hour, so how bad could it be?


	7. Chapter 7 - Tactical Dress-up

**A/N: Christie has been watching too many spy films clearly, if she goes around "executing plans"... anyway, I still don't own Barbie. **

Admittedly, by now, Christie was desperate. With only two weeks left to the end of the half term, she was becoming acutely aware of the fact that in the majority of her classes, her grade remained way below the passing standard. She'd attempted to teach herself using her textbooks, but since she didn't know half the words they classified as 'basic' and not worth defining for idiots, all she'd gotten was a bad headache and a sense of inevitable doom.

Driven by depression, she'd been forced to reconsider Dora's proposal of a tutor. Isabelle, the only girl she was on vaguely good terms with, had been rather cold towards her after the incident with Prince Alex, and besides, she didn't seem the type to preform acts of benevolence for no real reason. Furthermore, Christie greatly valued the fact that once the torture of school had ended, she could sneak back to her room and change back into Christian, washing away the day's events with the ritual.

The last argument was the reason she had chosen who she had chosen. It seemed stupid, even to her, and she was clearly grasping out at straws, but if she wanted to be able to save her mother's life and stop her younger brother growing up on the streets, she really needed to pull this off, hence the reason she was resorting to desperate measures. Really, really, painfully desperate measures.

It was Saturday morning, which had dawned bright and early and the sun was up, meaning the majority of the students of Barbie princess charm school were all outside, perfectly positioned to see her leaving. They already despised her, so since there was nothing she could do about that fact, she'd just have to ignore them.

As it was the weekend, Christie would be thought of as odd if she went out dressed in her uniform, and besides, she had ulterior motives for dressing up other than just riling up her classmates. Wearing a leather jacket, a tank top and a skirt that was definitely bordering on pornographic, with the kind of knee-high lace up boots that you only ever saw on strippers or prostitutes, she was certainly dressed in an attention grabbing way, which was exactly what she was aiming for.

Stonily ignoring the shocked horror of her peers, who were sat around or stood in little gangs on the grass outside the school, milling about their usual, boring daily business, Christie walked down the drive way up to the school and strutted determinedly out of the school grounds. Since it was a weekend, they were technically allowed to leave the school premises, but from what Christie had observed of everyone else, no one ever did. After all, what could possibly be out there in the plain, old, boringly average city that they couldn't find in the school spa or gym?

Trained by now to be able to walk in six inch heels and not give away any signs that it completely kills, Christie relaxed a little now as she walked down the sidewalk, glad to be out of the critical eye of the students, moving with a professional grace and charm worthy of a princess, or in these heels, a hooker. When she started walking by the white-coated railings of the Prince Charming School grounds however, she became aware that the critical eye of her audience had now turned into a very curious, very interested one.

It was often regarded as 'evil' by the anti-transgendered groups of people that transgendered individuals played "tricks" on everyone else, supposedly fooling straight men into being attracted to other men. Christie smirked as she trailed her fingers lightly against the railings, bathing in the change of approach. Was she ruining anyone's life just because she dressed as another gender? None of the boys inside the grounds looked as if they were mutating into some sort of homosexual menace, nor did they look at all displeased by her arrival.

Whether her deception offended anyone or not, they were all blissfully ignorant to it, save for one individual, and since she didn't mean it maliciously, she just comfortably sauntered in through the school gate, blushing and smiling as more eyes turned to her. That reaction had taken her a week to practise and perfect, but by now she was something of a flawless actress, especially around men that she wanted something from.

Pacing down the huge driveway of the boy's school, Christie drank in her surroundings with interest, noting the subtle but definite difference between the two genders and their schools. Whilst hers was populated with gaggles of girls chatting or filing about, the boys had most of their grass taken up by a make-shift football match –she ought to congratulate them on being such men, filling their gender roles perfectly- or with boys just sprawled out, reading and talking. Christie was beginning to understand why Miss Privet thought it would be a problem for anyone here to know that there was a transgendered student attending.

Whilst getting her mind trapped in a bitter reverie would be fun, she had things to do, so as she walked down she scanned the various male faces of those gathered out on the lawn, hunting down one in particular. Most of the boys playing rugby had stopped moving about, stood there staring -their closed mouths the only things stopping them from looking like cartoon characters- but it made it much easier to check them over and identify them.

Eventually, once she'd drawn up closer to the school, Christie caught sight of 'the chosen one' and grinned triumphantly, relishing in the fact that he looked completely petrified as he stared at her. Sat with a notepad open on his lap and a biro in one hand, Alex was amongst a group of four friends, exactly as Christie had hoped.

Now of course it was time to really pull out all the stops. Tilting her body in such a manner that her hips and (fake) chest were best accentuated, she stuck out her hand and waggled her fingers flirtatiously at him before running over to him, which was pretty difficult to do in heels, but had the desired effect. Now all the boys had stopped playing rugby.

"Alex!" She squealed happily, running over to him and then neatly plopping herself down to sit beside him, not so close that she had to touch him, but close enough for it to be inappropriate. Paled and looking like a deer caught in the headlights, Alex blinked back at her, his voice stuck in his throat. Fortunately, as friends always do, his companions came to the rescue.

"Alex, won't you introduce us to your…" One boy with shaggy ginger hair and a friendly smile paused as he chose the right word, looking Christie up and down appraisingly, his eyes lingering on her short hemline and the low cut of her shirt, swallowing tightly as he did so, "friend?"

Staring incredulously at Christie, Alex definitely had no desire whatsoever to introduce her, but as his friends waited with eager anticipation, watching Christie like a pack of hungry wolves, he clearly had no choice. "This is," He began, having to force the words out slowly, seeming to require great effort, "Christie. She's my dance partner up at the girl's school."

"Dance partner huh?" A blonde boy with a long face and quite the impressively creepy leer on him repeated, raising an eyebrow suggestively and earning himself an elbow in the chest.

"Alex, what about Marian?" A smaller, ashy haired boy with large chocolate brown eyes inquired quietly, blinking over at him innocently. Whilst Alex look set to answer, Christie interrupted on an outburst.

"So you two _are_ dating?" She questioned, now realising that perhaps she had spoken out of turn back at dance class.

"They're not dating exactly…" The ginger mused, giving Alex a cheeky grin before earning himself a swat over the back of the head from a dark haired male sat a little bit behind them all, just outside the circle, who had yet to say anything and was the only one not eying up Christie.

"Will you lot cut it out?" Alex snapped irritably, his hackles up in response to Christie's presence and whilst his comment quietened his friends, it didn't stop them goggling at Christie or grinning like imps.

Sighing in exasperation, Alex looked back over at Christie, the only one who was eying her chest with caution rather than badly hidden lust. "Is there something you want?" He inquired hesitantly, perfectly able to read the real message behind her sweet, charming smile, which widened in response to his question.

"There most certainly is," She beamed, leaning forward so she was sat on her knees, her skirt hitching up another centimetre. "I was hoping that you would tutor me," She professed cheerfully, her voice filled with the perkiness of the dumb slut she was trying to play. Assuming a stereotypical persona always made this easier, less real to her so it didn't matter so much.

"No," He snapped quickly and bluntly, "No way," He then elaborated, not exactly putting it gently for the sweet, young, innocent girl who's heart he was breaking. Christie did her best to look completely dejected and forlorn. Now was where the sympathy of his friends was going to come into play.

"Alex?!" The blonde exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in a very theatrical gesture, "What exactly are you doing?" He demanded disbelievingly, his eyes very wide as he stared at his friend.

Awkwardly put on the spot, Alex fidgeted and shot a scowl in Christie's direction, who let a small smirk escape amongst the act of being all heartbroken. "I don't have the time," He reasoned, clearly having just pulled that excuse from his ass.

"Time?" The ginger repeated, his expression matching that of the blonde's. The other two were also watching Alex, looking a lot less outraged than the other pair although the ashy haired one was frowning.

"Your priorities clearly need some reshuffling," The blonde laughed jokily, patting Alex on the shoulder before gripping it and fixing his eyes, gesturing towards Christie. "Will you not look at this poor, downtrodden young lady, a damsel in distress who asked so politely for your assistance?" He inquired in an over the top, distraught tone that was probably overdoing it, but it at least made Alex look over at the excellent acting job Christie was doing.

Definitely going beyond his station, the blonde stood himself up, placed his hands on his hips and frowned down at Alex. "Alex my friend, we are the future princes and gentlemen royals of the realm. If we will not save young princesses in need, then who will?" He demanded of an imaginary audience, holding his arms out to the side as he begged the question. The ginger beside him had dissolved down into hysterics at his antics, whilst Alex was half smirking, half glowering, unable to make up his mind about how to approach this bizarre act.

Giving Christie a sideways glance, he sighed and shook his head. "Fine, I'll tutor you." He shrugged, actually awfully casual about it compared to how outraged he'd been earlier. Grinning gleefully at the new consensus, the Blonde sat himself back down in the grass and gave Christie a well-earned appreciative once-over. Giggling, still playing the easy, flirtatious role in case it would come in handy later, Christie smiled back at him. "Why thank you, brave knight." She teased lightly, internally condemning herself to hell for being so cheesy, but it seemed to go down well with the two more enthusiastic gentlemen, who each gave her a wicked grin back.

Souring from his previous indifference, Alex was clearly not pleased with her flirting with his friends, the thought of her being a male in sex probably violating his hetero-normative box, or some equally fancy term that Christie would care more about if she were studious like that. "Of course, if this idiot is ever rude to you again, I would be happy to extend my services to you," The blonde offered smoothly, leaning over and taking her hand and kissing it in a traditional manner. "I am Sir Jeremiah Collins, prince in training, at your service." He announced, even doing a little bow to complete the act.

"I'm Caine," The ginger supplied, giving her a loose wave whilst still watching Jeremiah, grinning in amusement.

"Logan," The dark haired male murmured from his spot at the back of the circle, the first word he'd spoken since Christie had arrived.

"I'm Ash," The platinum blonde supplied with a small, half-shy smile and a glance back at Logan.

Standing up and dusting the grass and dirt off of herself, Christie gave them a little mock curtsy, which was impressive considering how her skirt barely passed as anything over then long underwear and she had to hide what it concealed. "It was a pleasure to meet you all," She smiled easily, receiving enthusiastic grins back from Caine and Jeremiah, and despite how idiotic she was acting, neither Logan nor Ash seemed to disapprove of her. It was odd how complimented she felt by their acceptance, despite having been acting the whole time.

Lastly, she turned to give her goodbyes to Alex, who was now definitely trying to kill her with his eyes. "Will you meet me at four then?" She requested politely, pouting a little just to show she was ready to go back into her forlorn act if he dared to say no. She needed this, and his prejudice wasn't going to screw it up.

"Sure," Alex shrugged dully, looking away from her with forced disinterest. Still, she'd gotten what she'd wanted, so his rudeness didn't really matter now.

"Bye then!" She called, giving them another delightfully stupid wave before practically skipping off, admittedly being genuine as she grinned this time. A perfectly executed plan felt good.


	8. Chapter 8 - Remorse

**A/N: Perspective change to the delightfully charming Alex, who is equally as moody as Christie... All opinions voiced in this belong to the respective characters...**

Alex_ hated_ mornings. Probably the result of the long lie ins that were allowed in his previous palace life, he still wasn't used to waking up at seven in the morning for school, so he greatly valued his sleep during the weekends, which occupied most of the morning hours. Which was why, when he got woken up before he was good and ready, he was the _moodiest fucking bitch_ the whole of the kingdom had ever seen.

"Alex," A hushed voice hissed urgently from somewhere around him, he was too tired and too disorientated to locate its origins, but he punched out at the air anyway in the vain hope of knocking out whoever was daring to disturb him. "Alex!" It hissed again afterwards, so clearly he'd missed.

Forcing his eyes to open decently, he squinted blearily at the individual stood before him. "Ash, what on earth do you want?" He groaned groggily, stretching lethargically and wondering why he had such a bad headache. He blamed that infuriating transgendered lunatic who was so damn loud when he was pretending to be perky. During their last dance lesson, Alex distinctly recalled him being a lot less cheerful than that, having informed him that his birth name was Christian and that he pretty much seemed to hate everyone on the planet, or perhaps it was only those destined to be royals. Either way, he had known that the prissy routine he'd put on yesterday was a very disturbing act.

Fiddling with his fingers in his lap meekly, Ash averted his eyes and looked far too much like a kicked puppy for Alex to not feel guilty. Edging himself up so he was sat, he glanced around through half-opened eyes and tried to adjust. "What time is it?"

"Ten."

"In the evening?" Alex yelped in shock, sure he'd never managed to sleep in that late, his record being two in the afternoon. Surely the transvestite hadn't ruined his life that much.

"No, in the morning," Ash corrected him, wincing slightly as Alex complained very loudly again.

Exhaling and straightening determinedly, settling into his stubborn persona, Ash stopped looking meek and started looking oddly pissed off. "Alex, your friend, the girl, she's at the door." Ash informed him in a clinical tone, although slight irritation showed through it. "Logan said she's looking for you," He added, sounding more agitated this time and stressing that sentence a little too much.

Shaking his head in despair, Alex ran a hand through his curls and tried to think of how to stop his life from falling apart now that it seemed this insane individual was determined to ruin it. "I'll be down in a minute Ash," He promised, sliding out of bed and going to hunt down some decent clothes. No way was he letting someone like that catch him in his pyjamas.

Dressed in the first things he'd found, which were casual clothes grabbed from his floor, Alex bolted it down several staircases, down to the lobby of the boy's dorm block, which was located away from the main school building. Arriving in an attractively panting, sweaty mess, he leant against the banister of the final staircase and glanced over at the door.

Drawn towards it like magnets, both Jem and Caine had gravitated towards their new visitor with their usual undeterred enthusiasm, and several of the students who filtered through also paused to observe, some staying and watching for longer than was necessary. Once Alex had caught his breath back and straightened, he too then spotted their visitor and his stomach knotted in response.

Stretched out in the doorframe as if he thought this was some kind of old fashioned film, the transvestite was rather obviously displaying his (fake) figure to the best advantage and he was wearing a small, flirtatious smirk on his lips. Of course, to everyone else, he looked like a she, and even Alex had to admit that even with his knowledge of the truth, he found it difficult to spot the giveaway signs of the illusion. It was a well-cast spell, but it wasn't going to trick him.

Brushing past his two best friends clumped by the door, Alex found himself stood undesirably close to Christian, trapped next to him by his friends who had now sealed the gap he'd made between him. His face lighting up in response to his sudden arrival, Christian's expression seemed happy enough, but Alex could spot the dark malice underneath the toothy grin and he tried to step back and escape, but was caught by two hands going to his back, catching him and pushing him back towards the tranny. Idiots didn't know what they were doing.

"Alex, thank you for coming, sorry for awakening you from your slumber," Christian teased easily, arching his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth tilted up so he looked like a perfectly genuine, flirtatious girl. This was the kind of thing that really messed with Alex's head. Was it gay if he found him attractive? Wait, no need for those kinds of thoughts- there was no way he found someone like _this_ attractive.

Grunting something incoherent in response, Alex really didn't feel like talking to this madman, but judging by the stressed, exasperated groans from his friends behind him, they were clearly judging him for his antisocial behaviour. Noting who his more appreciative audience was, Christian changed his focus over to Jem and gave him a look over, smiling suggestively when he was done. "And thank you two for entertaining me whilst I waited," He practically purred, glancing back over at Alex when he had finished. Naturally Alex knew, it was so obvious that he was just flirting with the others to try and wind him up, but unfortunately, it was working.

Straightening, leaning away from the doorframe, Christie gave them all a more formal smile. "I was wondering if I could talk to Alex outside, preferably alone?" She requested lightly, and Alex could tell he was dead meat from the narrowing of her eyes when Caine and Jem shoved him out of the door and then closed it shut behind him, audibly cackling not very subtly from behind it.

Stood outside on the grass of the east grounds, completely exposed, Alex looked hesitantly over at his attacker, watching as the false smiles and politeness dropped completely and after giving him a dirty look, Christian marched off purposefully, and Alex knew he was supposed to follow. Trailing behind reluctantly, he tried to work out what he could possibly have done to piss the transvestite off in the space of one day, having had him crash his school and molest his friends yesterday. Sundays were supposed to be days of rest, not of fiery cross-dressers.

Reaching a spot far enough from the boy's dorm for them to be out of view, where the grass was longer and hadn't been cut for a while, Christian turned and faced Alex, folding his arms theatrically over his chest. "You didn't come," He accused coldly, narrowing his eyes at Alex and looking far too judgemental for a man in women's clothing, in Alex's opinion at least.

"Excuse me?" Alex asked slowly, unsure to what he was referring.

"You didn't turn up to tutor me. I waited for over an hour, and I still have no idea what a single word in my textbooks means," Christian elaborated, his icy tone becoming harsher as he continued, his frown souring.

"Wait, you were serious about that?" Alex checked, entirely taken aback. He'd been sure that was just some cruel trick the transvestite had been playing, an excuse to come and torture him in front of his friends.

Staring at him in disbelief, Christian shook his head. "Um, yes? If I don't get my grades up by the end of this term they're kicking me out."

"So you want me to tutor you?" Alex questioned numbly. Why was this happening to him? How on earth could this be happening?

"As I said before, you're the only one who knows about my dirty little secret. Hence the reason you're the only one who can teach me," Christian sighed heavily, his tone bordering on patronising.

Alex meanwhile had no idea why it mattered that he knew about Christian being transgendered for him to tutor him, but he really didn't want to know. Either way, he wasn't going to do it. "Sorry Christian,"

"Christie."

"What?" Alex snipped, confused and irritated at being interrupted from his big speech.

"It's Christie, or are these clothes and boobs not typically feminine enough for you?" Christian snapped back, clearly getting rather defensive over the subject. Alex already had to argue with him about the ridiculous idea of him tutoring him, so he'd rather not start a war about his name as well, so he dropped it.

"The point is, I can't tutor you," He informed him simply, shrugging.

"Why not?" Christian demanded with a quick feistiness.

Exhaling loudly in exasperation, Alex gestured to the air with his hands, trying to explain. "Is it because I'm transgendered?" Christie inquired bluntly, clearly having predicted the answer.

"No, it's not," Alex protested, and then changed his mind, "well, a bit. It's just all rather…" He trailed off. What could he possibly say without offending this bizarre individual?

"New, yeah, you said that last week," Christian passed him off, completely disregarding his hesitation before grinning impishly, "But then isn't school all about broadening your horizons and trying out new opportunities?"

"I don't really view tutoring as an opportunity," Alex pointed out darkly, surprised by how the transvestite seemed to be able to swing between two moods so easily, grumpy one moment and lightly joking the next.

"I'll stop teasing your friends if you do?" Christian offered a little awkwardly when he didn't reply, for he was trying to think of the correct argument to end this. He didn't want to be thought of as homophobic, or he supposed in this case transphobic, but having it all shoved in his face so suddenly meant he couldn't help feeling rather uncomfortable. This was not the sort of thing he was used to. Still, that offer was tempting, albeit ridiculous. "After all, Jeremiah did offer to tutor me, I'm sure he'd love spending an hour in my room every night," Christian added with a definite cunning curl to his tone now, a devious smirk on his expression.

Unsure of what to do now, Alex whispered a rather rude curse under his breath and then shook his head. "I don't even understand why you're so hell bent on staying here; you clearly don't get on with anyone, you're always bitching about how awful everything is, and it's not as if it suits you." He countered, his voice far too panicked and strained for his argument to sound reasonable or coherent, despite its fairly logical content, based on the tense conversations they'd had in their last dance class. Christian however, seemed to find it rather amusing.

"I confess, I may have ulterior motives for staying other than pleasing mummy and daddy, but that doesn't mean I don't have just as much right to stay." He replied smoothly, arching an eyebrow when he was done and looking rather smug with his comeback.

Once Alex had fully registered and processed what he had said though, he found instead of being exasperated or desperate, he was confused. "Other motives? Such as what?" He inquired hesitantly, not sure if he wanted to know the answer to a question like that from someone like this.

"Money," Christian replied with a completely at ease shrug, seemingly unbothered by his own answer, whilst Alex gagged slightly, feeling as though his eyes were bulging in their sockets as he stared at the cross-dresser.

"You're kidding me."

"Not all of us were born rich Alex, and this isn't a perfect world where the poor can follow the American dream and all succeed in life," Christian quipped back effortlessly, inspecting his painted nails as he did so.

Completely taken aback by this, having expected it to be something lewd and sexual rather than something so intrinsically basic and selfish, Alex just stared numbly at the tranny. "But doing it for money, doesn't that sound selfish to you?" He asked, guilt only kicking in when he saw how Christian flinched violently in response and dropped his act of casual disinterest quickly to replace it with glaring hotly at Alex.

"Yes, I think it's incredibly selfish how I'm trying to house my family, pay my mother's hospital fee and get her a doctor decent enough to actually help her recover." He spat back, his words genuinely shaking Alex who stood there, shell-shocked and numb. It appeared he'd hit a very sensitive nerve, one that meant he ended up no longer antagonising the person before him, but feeling sorry for him. God, he'd really messed this one up.

Dropping his eyes to his feet, he rushed to apologise. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Admittedly, I, like everyone else, have a dream of sitting in a swivel chair, spinning around, throwing wads of money in the air and cackling as I do so, but the only reason I've fought to get into this hell hole is to claw my family out of poverty, so that maybe my brother doesn't end up like me." Christian continued, his voice growing in volume the more he spoke, an aggressive sarcasm sticking to his voice as he mocked Alex, putting on a tone of false politeness and civility despite the fact that he was clearly seething.

Having been completely unaware of anything Christian had just mentioned, Alex bit down on his lip, feeling as if he were about to cry. He didn't take well to being shouted at, especially not when he deserved it. He'd known that Christian had been the lottery girl, everyone knew that, but he'd never known he'd come from bad circumstances. "Christian, I'm-"He began to apologise, before being cut off once again.

"Christie."

"Christie," He started again, hoping using his (or was it her?) name would appease her, just a little bit, "I'm sorry. I didn't think."

Regarding him silently for a moment, the transvestite –He should probably call her Christie in case he slipped up again and only angered her further- rocked back onto her heels and looked at him, considering. Then, ever so slowly, a very bitter, dark smile twisted her lips. "No, you did, you just have all these lovely preconceptions and a nice, safe, little ideal world in your head, so you suited me to fit that." She mused aloud, cocking her head to the side and regarding him with a whole new depth that both unnerved him and gave him the feeling that in some bizarre, unknown way, he'd gone up in her opinion of him, which was totally undeserved, but felt comforting anyway.

Considering how badly he must have hurt her with his previous comments, he supposed he really owed her this now. "I'll do it." He sighed in a resigned manner, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back, watching Christia-Christie awkwardly, wincing a little as the sight of her reminded him of what she'd said. Her dark sense of humour had only made him feel worse.

"Do what?" Christie inquired, seeming to be shaken out of some little internal monologue by his comment, blinking back at him with a momentary innocent confusion.

Grinning like a shy child, he raised his eyebrows. "Tutor you, if you still want me to," He offered, watching as Christie went from being confused to surprised, and then her face split into a genuine, warm grin that didn't fit the harsh words she'd spoken earlier. The contrast made Alex shiver.

"Well then, I'll see you at four tomorrow then," She decided, setting the time just after classes ended for the both of them.

"Yeah… I'll bring some stuff over. What's your room number?"

"Ninety-four, it's up at the top amongst a bunch of disused ones."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Great, well… thanks. Bye!"

"Bye."

Never before had Alex felt more uncomfortable as he watched the boy who was a girl walk off, seeming rather proud of herself as she hummed quietly, just loud enough that Alex could hear. Bringing his hands to his face, he buried his head in them and cursed into them. What had he gone and gotten himself into?


	9. Chapter 9 - Body For Hire

**A/N: I don't think this chapter warrants this story the 'M' rating and I've purposefully tried to avoid going there, but if anyone feels deeply traumatised by the fact that this chapter is a T, complain and I shall change it.**

"You're beautiful," He remarked softly, tucking a loose lock of dark hair behind Christie's ear, his blue eyes drinking in her appearance hungrily.

"Thanks," She replied, forcing false modesty and embarrassment, having by now learnt to trigger her own blush reaction. The body's simple, basic responses were easily mastered with a little patience and training.

He said it over and over again, but the words were senseless and he didn't mean anything by them. They were his way of venting his sexual frustration verbally, the foreplay before the deed was to be done. Stepping back, removing one hand from cupping Christie's cheek, he walked over to the bed and lay down upon it, sitting up to face Christie, watching her. "Strip," He ordered shortly, his eyes not leaving her body once.

Obediently, Christie tugged the leather jacket cleanly off of her body, moving slowly, knowing this was half of the enjoyment, the reason why her transgender speciality was popular among her clients; the transformation and the unpeeling of the illusion viewed as stimulating. Dropping the outerwear down onto the floor, she gave her client a small, sexy smile, but received no acknowledgement in return, a simple, blank stare all she was met with as his eyes clung to her body.

She'd once watched an old Australian programme named 'Satisfaction' about a brothel, which alternated between making the job look glamorous and ruthless. Of course, she'd watched the first season of 'The Secret Diary of A Call Girl' several times, it being one of the few DVDs they owned. Emile had bought it as a cruel birthday joke for her.

The latter was the most insulting, portraying the relationship between the hooker and the client as sensual, romantic, as if the client felt anything other than raw sexual desire towards what they'd paid for, as if the hooker enjoyed getting fucked for money. It was not love, it was not soft and sexy and enjoyable; for the night she became bought goods, and she had to take what accompanied that in order to keep her own family alive.

Pulling the top up over her chest, she revealed the bra clipped around her chest, the implants peeking up over the top. Her client, a man in his late forties with thick but greying hair and an unshaven jaw, had unbuckled his trousers and his hand had slipped under his waistline. Trying to block that fact out, although she was more than used to these things by now, Christie shimmied out of her skirt and pulled it down her legs, the tight material clinging to them as she did so.

Stood there in her underwear, she gave a little twirl for her client, holding her arms up above her head so he got the best view possible. Since her move to the school, several of her clients weren't able to work the same time as she was, so she had to value those customers available, repeat ones becoming more valuable than ever. She had to make sure they were satisfied so they would come back and pay her again the next night she was able to sneak out.

Unclipping the bra, Christie dropped that to the floor too, looking down at her own chest and shivering slightly. Now that she was undressed like this, she wished nothing more than to but her female get-up back on and run. She was almost always male when she had to sleep with a client, as most preferred her to be naked, so despite her female persona being for work, they stripped her down to her most vulnerable state when they took her.

Leaving his nest on the bed, the client stood up and came over, placing a hand on Christian's chest and feeling the contours of his body. Compared to most clients, he was gentle, reserved about what he was doing but pleasant enough. Unlike how the television often portrayed it, the compliments paid by the clients weren't worth anything. Some other night they'd hire another hooker and whisper the same things. Those words were a ritual for them, something to get them into their own private fantasy, and it was his job to satisfy it.

Moving in closer, Christian hooked his thumbs over the edges of the restrictive underwear he wore and whilst trying to keep as much eye contact with the client as possible, a flirtatious smile on his face, he crept out of the under garment, hanging it over one finger before tossing it to the side.

Before he could so much as speak to suggest they move to the bed, he was grabbed, two large, rough hands grabbing at the backs of his thighs and pulling him straight into the client. If this had been his first time, Christian would have freaked out, loosing the pay, but by now he was more than used to being treated like disposable trash. Instead of reacting against it, he'd learnt to work with it, to try and get a little more comfortable himself whilst giving the client what they wanted.

He'd worried he would be out of practice, not having figured out a good route to sneak out of school at night since he'd joined the charm school, so it'd been over five weeks since his last client. For once he didn't care what the client wanted to do; he just needed the money.

When it was over, the concern over whether he was going to get paid came, like it always did. Prostitutes had no way of ensuring they got paid using the law, and if the client refused and you pushed it too far, they could turn violent. Christian had used to carry a knife to at least give him the illusion of safety, but one particularly nasty incident had proven how useless those attempts were in reality.

Fortunately, when Christian started getting dressed back up, the client went over to a draw and pulled out a wad of bank notes from a dressing draw, held together with an elastic band. Money held together like that, in that large a quantity was bound to be dirty money, but it wasn't as if that mattered to Christian. What mattered was that it was money, and after that, he'd earned it.

Gratefully accepting the hundred dollars complied in twenty dollar notes, the pay for an hour of his time, Christie tucked the notes into the inside of his jacket pocket and then slipped out of the room, grateful that it was over. Leaving the sleazy motel that the client had hired for the evening, Christie shivered in the cold of the night air, stood on the street pavement and looking around to get an idea of where she was.

Moving amongst the mass population of the slums, unseen and unknown, just another hooker on the way home, Christie worked out where her home was and tried to keep her eyes down, not wanting trouble when she had money on her. Before she got home however, when she was about four blocks away, a car rolled up beside her on the pavement and slowed, the driver's window lowering. "You want a ride?" The man inside asked, looking her over to check she was what he wanted.

One hundred dollars would be enough to pay the rent for that month and the one they'd missed last month, but it wouldn't cover living expenses such as food. Eying the man, Christie mulled it over for a minute before shrugging. "Sure," She agreed, stepping down off of the pavement and walking round, climbing into the passenger seat and clipping her belt up.

Neither of her clients were that out of the ordinary that night and the second paid her handsomely, handing her two hundred dollars for an hour, despite her rate of one hundred an hour, possibly because it had overrun slightly, but clients rarely cared about details. Still, she couldn't help feeling a small sense of achievement at being able to ensure her brother didn't end up starving in her absence. She just prayed the authorities hadn't yet worked out that he was living at home, totally alone.

Hurrying back home on that panicked thought, she made it to the east district and then clambered up the fire escapes to the fifth floor of the apartment block, then clambered into her own house through a window, knowing the front door would be bolted shut and Emile would be asleep. They couldn't shut the window that was above the kitchen counter tops, it had jammed at the half-way point several months ago, but fortunately most people who wanted trouble couldn't fit through that margin, so for now Emile was as safe as he could be. Perhaps the left over money could be used to buy decent windows with locks…

Slinking in with a cat burglar like flexibility, Christie unzipped her shoes, which were killing her feet, left them on the kitchen counter top in the sink and then padded over to the money jar, bare-foot. Pulling the notes from her jacket, she popped open the lid on the empty jar, hoping it's vacancy was recent and Emile hadn't starved to death, and then slipped in the three hundred dollars she'd earned from working that night.

Pulling open the lower cupboard, she tucked the jar in the back corner and then went and retrieved the key for the lock from under the bread bin, locked the cupboard shut and replaced the key. With that all sorted out, she stretched herself out, the stiff after effects of her work lingering painfully in her body, and then she exhaled slowly, looking as if she were doing a shitty form of yoga.

Whilst she was not in one of those unnaturally sparkly, glamorous shows about independent, strong women becoming prostitutes because that was clearly what feminism was all about, getting paid for sex, she couldn't help feeling oddly relieved to be back home, with the run down furniture and everything breaking. The sheer overwhelming wealth of the princess charm school made her feel both very insignificant, as well as out of place. Her home wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was still home, somewhere she almost managed to belong.

Moving silently, she went on through to her brother's bedroom, the door creaking upon her opening it but her brother was too busy snoring loudly to notice. Grinning fondly at the sleeping kid sprawled on the bed, the sheets half off of him, Christie crept over to him and watched him sleep for a moment, glad he managed to find peace in the escape of sleep, judging by the contented half-smile on his face.

Kneeling down beside him, Christie brushed his hair back, kissed his forehead and then glanced around, checking nothing was wrong with his room. Everything appeared to be in working order. "Night Emile," She whispered quietly, pulling the duvet back over his body and then leaving the room, shutting the door behind her as gently as possible.

It took over an hour to walk back to princess charm school, although she'd thankfully been smart enough to pinch a spare pair of more sensible, flatter shoes from her wardrobe, along with another change of her old clothes for when she needed them.

Demonstrating a great deal of natural talent in gymnastics, Christie vaulted herself up over the railing into the school ground, and then crept secret agent style to the side of the building, avoiding the various patrols of guards protecting the sleeping princesses. To her great delight, she had realised some time ago that right next to the balcony of her room were some creeper vines, growing up the side of a crosshatched wooden framework that was bolted to the wall of the school. With a great deal of grace and swiftness she scaled the length of it and then plopped back down onto her balcony, the doors of which were set ajar from when she'd left through them.

Returning to her room and closing them behind her, admittedly having missed the cosy heat of her nice, luxurious princess room and the soft sheets of her bed that was unoccupied by someone paying her to fuck them, Christie finally relaxed, stripping down as quickly as she could to try and leave the night's events behind her. She had to keep working though, for graduation and employment as a lady royal was nearly a year from now, and Emile would never survive if she stopped. For now, she had to be both a princess and a hooker.


	10. Chapter 10 - Nice and Awkward

Christian really didn't know what to expect other than that it was bound to be incredibly, fantastically, excruciatingly awkward, especially after his little rant yesterday. He hadn't been planning on going and dumping his soppy backstory on Alex, but then he'd been being so_ insensitive_ that it had just sort of… fallen out. It seemed that now Alex knew him better than anyone else in a two mile radius, which was fairly depressing considering how badly they got along.

Still, being a pessimist wasn't going to get him anywhere, so as he stood, changed into his casual clothes, bought from the men's department in stores, he glanced around the room, unnaturally nervous as he bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet. Everything was tidy, nothing catastrophically embarrassing was lying about, and for the sakes of Alex's comfort he'd packed all of his transgendered clothing away. Sure, he was determined to integrate Alex into being more comfortable around the subject and stop him from being a judgemental asshole, but he wasn't going to just shove it in his face.

Christian was just trying to recall the phrase that referred to boiling a toad, or something along those lines, when he got a knock on the door. Swearing, realising a small flaw in his plan, he called for his guest to wait a minute before slipping the bra back on, tucking in the implants. However unlikely it was, the person at the door could potentially not be Alex, in which case he'd have blown his entire secret for being careless. Hurrying over to the door, looking sufficiently female, save a little androgynous, he kept his lower half behind the door and opened it on crack, peering out to meet his new arrival.

Indeed, it was Alex, however behind him swarmed several girls who were all trying to talk to him, giving Christian a variety of curious and envious glances. He supposed he should have known better than to think Alex could just come and tutor him with no one noticing. Clearly they thought he was a slut for it, and it was better to distract them with that than for them to notice he was hardly dressed like much of a girl, so he tossed his hair back and gave Alex a suggestively flirtatious smile. "Alex, thank you for coming," he simpered, giggling a little whilst smiling angelically and opening the door a little wider to allow him through.

Dressed like the rich twat he was, Alex was all but wearing a suit, with a fancy designer jacket on and an extremely nice pair of jeans, yet Christian got the irritating feeling that to him, this was casual. Giving his peers a cutesy little wave and an allusive smirk, completed with an eyebrow raise, Christian shut the door on them as they all stared numbly at him, shell-shocked by the fact that he had a _boy_ in his room. Clearly they were more sex-deprived than Christian had first realised.

Slipping the rucksack he'd had slung over one shoulder down onto the floor, Alex glanced around his room cautiously and then looked over at Christian, who'd pulled up his shirt. "What are you-" He started to demand, as Christian eased the bra straps down over his arms and then unbuckled the back, dropping it down to the floor and then concealing it under the bed by kicking it there with his foot.

"Just changing," Christian shrugged calmly, cutting him off before he could get all high and mighty. Working the wig off of his head, he hid that too and then stood before Alex boldly, proving that he was indeed male in sex. "You can call me Christian now," He instructed, stretching his arms slightly, enjoying the freedom of not having to wear the fake breasts. Nodding slowly, Alex was quite clearly still adjusting to the whole premise of a cross-dressing student, but Christian had to confess, he'd been surprised by the fact that he hadn't insulted him more colourfully. Sure, he hadn't been over the moon about the discovery, but he had agreed to tutor him and wasn't being a complete douchebag about it, so he figured he ought to go easy on him.

His head bobbing up and down repetitively as if he were a broken puppet, Alex averted his eyes and then held the backpack up. "I brought my class notes." He announced a little meekly, frowning slightly when he looked back over at Christian, who it seemed was going to have to be the one to push this thing forward. Awkward definitely didn't even _begin_ to cover the atmosphere at that moment.

"Okay, if you want to sit wherever," He advised, going over to his own bag which had been dumped in the corner in a very unloving manner as usual and retrieved his own workbooks, which were still filled with little more than a bunch of scribbles, doodles and the teacher's red marking pen, only ever giving him crosses. Setting them down on the writing desk that furnished the room, Christian clambered up onto the swivel chair that was provided and then crossed his legs, turning to look expectantly at Alex, who was still stood in the exact same spot, appearing rather petrified.

Trying not to laugh at how much he resembled a frightened rabbit since that would be rather cruel, Christian nodded in the direction of the spare chair sat over by the wardrobe. "May I suggest using that?" He proposed, grinning as Alex scurried over and then dragged it back to position it beside him, just enough of a safe distance away that Alex didn't have to be_ too _near him. Watching him with a mix of pity and amusement, Christian let him take his time to get ready and calm himself down.

Exhaling slowly through his lips, seemingly unaware of how closely he was being scrutinised, Alex ducked his head for a second before resurfacing, his determined grimace showing he was ready. "Okay so, what do you need help with?" He asked formally, his voice confident enough.

"Considering how I'm failing all classes that involve using a pen, most things." Christian watched a little guilty as the colour drained from Alex's face in response to that and then he stared at him in blatant disbelief.

"What's your current grade average?" He inquired slowly, approaching the answer apprehensively.

"In academic subjects, it ranges between an E and a D," Christian admitted, feeling awfully small for a moment, although he did his best not to show it, grimacing right back at Alex whose expression indicated he felt this was something of a doomed operation.

Not wanting his tutor to think he was stupid, Christian rushed to make a quick excuse. "I dropped out of school at fourteen, so I haven't been taught half the things they just assume you'll know," He explained, stammering ever so slightly. Honestly, he wasn't normally this nervous with his words, but this was the only person who it seemed was willing to tutor him, so he couldn't let him panic and run off because he thought Christian was incapable of learning and that he was just wasting his time.

Glancing over at him and studying his face, Alex seemed to mull something over before swallowing and straightening a little. "Alright then, we'll go over what you've missed, and then your lessons should make more sense," He decided, glancing over at the exercise books Christian had dumped on top of the desk, taking the top one and opening it hesitantly. Miraculously, he'd managed to choose Christian's worst one, chemistry, where every word the teacher spoke only made him want to grind a drill into his own skull to escape, hence the reason his book was just filled with mindless doodles and fake suicide notes. "Maybe…" Alex began, trailing off as he realised the full extent of Christian's incompetence, "it'd be best if you avoid doing this too."

Nodding meekly, flushing at getting caught by someone who wasn't just another teacher, who always passed him off as just being intrinsically stupid and ignored him in class, Christian was mentally kicking himself whilst Alex sighed. "Okay, what subject do you want to start with?" He asked politely, continuing on despite his student's apparent hopelessness.

They ended up settling on Chemistry, tackling the worst shit-storm first. As expected, it was fairly uncomfortable at first as they dodged around, trying to work out how to go about Alex teaching Christian whilst putting aside everything else. After twenty minutes or so however, Alex had explained the basic concept of electronic configuration and had written out several questions for Christian to fill out to test if he'd learnt anything whatsoever. Alex meanwhile seemed to have settled in nicely, rocking back on his chair and looking around curiously, probably trying to scout out Christian's female clothes.

"So, do I refer to you as a he or a she?" He inquired, and Christian had noticed the prince became increasingly talkative as he relaxed.

"When I'm dressed as a girl, you would use she," Christian clarified absently as he found that for once, he actually understood the work he was doing, filling out the boxes to show the electronic structure for various elements and he even now knew what those words meant.

"What about outside of school?" Alex prompted, his feet rested against the base of the desk as he pushed back on his chair, using it as support.

"Same rules apply."

"How come, I mean no one is going to care if you're… what you are, outside of school?" Alex asked, hesitating as he was about to label Christian, then quickly shied away from it.

Setting his pen down, Christian rotated in his seat so he was facing Alex head-on and then leant back, regarding him levelly. "Alright Alex, I shall explain this to you. When I am dressed as a woman, I do so because I identify as female in gender. When I am dressed as a man, I do so because I identify as a male in gender, hence you should suit your gender specific pronouns accordingly," He explained clinically, very proud of himself for sounding quite so scientific and formal, smiling smugly to himself whilst Alex's head returned to doing its numb bobbing up and down thing as he took that all in.

"That's quite a lot to take in," He remarked dazedly, half smiling, half frowning.

"Relax; you're doing pretty well for a sheltered rich kid," Christian reassured him with a joking smirk, picking his pen back up and chewing the end absently as he mused over the fact that this was oddly and unexpectedly entertaining.

"That's my pen you're chewing by the way." Alex pointed out darkly, glowering far more at the violation of his pen than he had at Christian's transgendered antics. Muttering a little "oopsie" Christian quickly removed the offended object from his mouth and wiped it on his sleeve, then held it out in offering. "Um… no thanks, you can keep it." Alex mumbled awkwardly, twisting his nose up in disgust at the proposal, so Christian just shrugged and admired his new acquirement. It was a very nice pen.

Alex meanwhile was frowning at him. "I thought that people… like you were supposed to be all prissy about these things, like hygiene and such," He pointed out awkwardly, looking both rather disturbed and conflicted by the individual that was sat before him, his frown making him look almost pained. Still, whether he was conflicted or not, Christian still had multiple problems with that statement and so couldn't help himself when he flashed Alex a wicked, threatening grin and with his hackles up, went about destroying what was left of his tutor's morale.

"Firstly, that's a stereotype, not reality, so my first piece of advice is don't rely on those to make any judgements about anyone. Secondly, they're also highly offensive, especially ones like that, so they kind of make you come off as a dickhead," He snapped in rapid-succession, probably speaking too quickly for his words to be effective but at least it had weakened his companion, who was wearing the same guilty, remorseful expression as he had during his last rant.

Christian didn't know whether to feel sorry for him, angry for his repeated slip up, or to feel bad for being so rough with him when everything was new to him. Still, he'd settled with ranting this time, so he'd have to follow it through. "Now let's work on expanding your vocabulary, instead of saying 'people like you', try using the technical term," Christian encouraged with a false perkiness, his tone fantastically condescending. Having been bitched about for the past five weeks by the majority of the school's population, he'd gotten rather good at it himself. It probably wasn't something to be proud of, but it was coming in handy.

Dropping his eyes to his lap, Alex fidgeted awkwardly, not at all fitting Christian's first impression off him as an arrogant asshole. "Gay." He mumbled weakly, struggling with the word but he'd managed to say it.

"And the other one?" Christian pressed expectantly.

"Transvestite."

"Well done," He praised his tutor warmly, very proud of the progress they'd made that day, "you're one step further away from being an ignorant Neanderthal."

Slipping back into silence for the next couple of minutes, Christian finished of the questions he'd been set whilst Alex watched on, not speaking other than to point out a mistake. It wasn't exactly easy, nor was it comfortable, but it was perhaps the closest Christian had come to being sociable in the past five weeks with another human being who maybe didn't despise his guts, so it was, in an odd, twisted sense of the word, _nice_.


	11. Chapter 11 - For Your Entertainment

**A/N: A little fluff chapter, because who needs plot when you can have banter?**

Alex was finally beginning to feel like he was getting used to this. In dance he'd be partnered with Christie, who admittedly did look perfectly female, dark haired and dressed like every other student of princess charm school in their preppy uniforms. Then after school he'd head over to room ninety-four and would find Christian waiting for him, now with short blonde hair and looking decidedly male. True, the first time he'd seen him dressed as a boy, it had been somewhat unnerving to finally have an image to attach to the fact that Christie was a male in sex, but by now they were both the same person in his mind, two sides of the same irritable, impatient, sassy coin.

Alex could no longer fairly claim that the transsexual was an idiot. Definitely, he still told him he was, because the moment Christian got an inch of praise he quickly became insufferable, but it became evident that he wasn't failing in class because he was stupid. "I," Christian began to declare one afternoon, on the last Friday before the holidays for half term started, when they were sat in his room; Christian at his desk with Alex sat cross legged on the bed, doing his own homework, "am a genius." Sometimes Christian didn't need praise to be a big-headed twat; it seemed to come naturally to him.

"You have a grade average of C Christian, you're hardly Einstein," Alex pointed out in a drawl, the copy of 'Twelfth Night' his class was supposed to be reading for English lying open on his lap as he only half paid attention to it.

"Precisely, and that means I've already passed this term," Christian sung smugly, spinning around gleefully on the swivel chair as if he were only three years old.

"Sure,_ if_ you keep your grade up," Alex reminded him, not sure whether to smirk or scowl so he settled for a weird hybrid of the two that only made Christian snort.

Snapping his book shut, Alex glanced over at the bleached blonde who was spinning around and singing to himself and then frowned. He had learnt that the blonde enjoyed few things more than educating yours truly on the world around him, although he always acted snappy and agitated when he did it. You could tell it inflated his ego to twice its usual size by the sight of the self-satisfied smirk he'd always wear when he was done, but it seemed Alex was going to have to risk it for the sakes of curiosity.

"Hypothetically speaking, if I liked you in that way, would it be gay?" He inquired, once the blonde had gone back to filling in the homework that Alex had previously gone through with him for maths class.

"Yes, very," Christian answered shortly, not really seeming to register what he was saying as he drummed the pen he'd stolen from Alex on the paper, mumbling to himself about the work, a habit he didn't seem to actually realise he possessed.

Frowning at that answer, Alex was still trying to get his head around the mechanics of transsexuals and such, so he tried digging deeper. "Really? But if you identify as female surely that would make it straight?" He pointed out diligently; since Christian always went on at him about how just because someone was born a male it didn't mean they were a male in gender.

"As a ruler," Christian agreed absently, very clearly not paying attention now, which Alex supposed showed dedication to his studies, but it still annoyed him.

"So which one is it?" He prompted, waiting a little impatiently for an answer, curiosity a very powerful thing at times.

Growling and muttering under his breath in protest to being disturbed from his studies like this, Christian put his head in his hand, still trying to fill out his homework. "I don't fucking know Alex. Just because I cross-dress, doesn't mean I'm some social justice know-it-all," He grumbled irritably, hitting his pen harder against the desk, drumming loudly with it.

Worried he was going to get snapped at again, Alex tried to lighten the mood, smiling crookedly. "You must really fuck with people's heads…" He mused aloud, relieved when he noted the smirk on Christian's face in response to that comment.

"I'll give you that I don't think that I'm the best person to judge your sexuality by," He drawled dryly, raising an eyebrow even though he wasn't looking at Alex, and then he suddenly seemed to understand something and pounced on the sheet before him with his pen enthusiastically.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Alex decided to see how far he could push this. Since he'd gone and gotten involved with the cross-dresser and now understood the vague basics of how it worked, he was admittedly interested to understand it fully. He'd always been the curious, studious type. "So if someone was in love with you, they'd basically be fucked," He concluded, still trying to be joking as he half-snickered at his own joke, but judging by Christian suddenly whipping his head around to frown at him, indicating he'd said something wrong. Again.

"What? No," Christian countered, shaking his head at him in a patronising manner before turning back to his work.

"But you just said-" Alex began to protest, but as always when they got into these sorts of arguments, Christian cut him off before he said something he would view as stupid.

"You can fancy one person and still find another attractive," He informed him dully, muttering about how this was the basics of all human life and about how naïve he seemed to think Alex was.

Bristling defensively at being called naïve, since he was at least trying to educate himself here, Alex tried again, determined to prove he had a point. "But isn't that kind of…" He trailed off, knowing that the next word he was about to use what bound to cause offense, since everyone, be it girl or boy, all knew what Christie was classified as by the general population of the princess charm school.

"Slutty?" Christian finished for him helpfully, glancing back to give him another appraising look-over before sighing, deflating slightly and leaning back in his chair, musing with the pen as he considered the wording to his next answer.

"Being attracted to someone is a chemical thing; it doesn't mean you _would _jump their bones even if you had the perfect opportunity. For example if I were infatuated with you, I would still think that Adam Lambert is a fucking god-"

"Who?" Alex interrupted, despite knowing he'd never get an answer.

"-but that doesn't mean I'd cheat on you," Christian finished, wearing the same smug smile as he always did at the end of his structured speeches.

Mulling that over a little numbly, Alex bobbed his head up and down in agreement so Christian didn't start ranting again and thought that over. He supposed that made sense… the only thing he'd ever had to gauge what was acceptable and what wasn't before however had been his straight-laced parents and the classic literature –and only that which had been deemed "appropriate"- they'd read in class. Now it seemed he was gauging what was right and what was wrong was by the values of a cross-dressing student who dressed like a hooker in her free time. His parents would be so proud.

"Huh," He mumbled absently to show he'd come to terms with it.

"Actually, if Adam Lambert was by some miracle offering to kiss, lick or sleep with me, I probably would," Christian mused aloud, clearly in his own little dream world by this point in time as he rocked back and forth on his chair, laughing when he noticed the judgemental, dead-pan glare Alex was giving him.

"Charming," Alex muttered flatly, rolling his eyes and picking his book back up and trying to ignore the insane person before him.

"Is this debate over now Alex?" Christian questioned, waiting patiently for Alex to stop ignoring him and answer the question, which took a while since he was very talented at sulking when he wanted to be.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, sorry," He apologised awkwardly, worried he was being a failure of a tutor, considering how he only ever spent ten or twenty minutes maximum explaining, and then seemed to spend the rest annoying Christian instead.

Still, he couldn't feel too guilty when Christian lit up with a devilish grin that could only mean trouble. "Excellent, now come be a good bitch and explain what the hell an algorithm is."


	12. Chapter 12 - Mistakes

**A/N: Story is likely to be bumped up to an M next chapter, so yep... a genuine action chapter this time.**

It was odd. It was really odd in fact. Perhaps Alex was to thank, or maybe time, perhaps even the fact that her grade was a now a steady high C, but for whatever reason, people didn't seem to hate her so much now. Christie had mainly been a ghost over the holidays, as other than her daily hour with Alex –who had insisted they didn't take a break over the holiday, ranting on about how she'd forget everything- she had barely seen a soul, other than when she slipped out at night to make some holiday money.

When school term started once again however, there was a definite change in people's attitudes towards her, and it was rather surreal to pass amongst a corridor full of people receiving nothing but brief glances or even small smiles, which after seven weeks of foul glares and judgemental lookovers, were rather terrifying. What was worse however, was when they all started talking to her.

"You know, I've been thinking something." Clara, a cheerful redheaded girl who was captain of the cheerleading team was sat at the science lab in front of Christie, who as usual was sat on her own, but she turned round when she spoke, eyeing Christie curiously, "Don't you think that Christie looks just like the old queen?" Turning around to see what she was talking about, the three over girls at her lab also looked over at Christie.

"You mean like when she was painted for that picture in the palace?" A brunette girl named Katelyn inquired, watching Christie with no malice or deep-set dislike, just open interest.

"Oh my god, she totally does!" A tiny little girl with curly black ringlets called Rebecca suddenly squeaked, looking completely overjoyed by her own realisation.

Christie, who had been trying to ignore them up until this point due to the fact that she was confident that they were just leading up to some elaborate trick, now glanced over at them, frowning. Whatever they were trying to get at, she could already feel it wasn't going to be good. "You know," Clara began again, her voice lowered into a mysterious whisper, although it somehow managed to be just as loud as her speaking voice, "they say that the young princess survived the accident, for her body was never found."

Oh dear. Christie could see where_ this_ was going. Rebecca gave a little yelp at that piece of information, hurriedly apologised to the teacher and then stared in awe at Christie. Trying her best to look as if she hadn't been listening into their conversation, turning the back of her head on them, Christie winced when Rebecca repeatedly hissed her name, drawing the attention of more and more people with every repetition.

Sighing, pinching the bridge of her nose in agitation, Christie glanced over at Rebecca in resignation and didn't need to say anything for the over-excited teenager to continue. "Christie, were you adopted?" She demanded, ignoring any such thing as privacy or silly things like that. Biting down on her lip, Christie was tempted just to lie to get herself out of this, but then they could always check school records, and if they then discovered the truth they'd think she was hiding something and then they were bound to make assumptions, so in conclusion, she was cornered.

"Yes," She answered tightly, glowering at a spot on the wall mutinously, not knowing how on earth she in any way resembled the queen, but she and everyone else in the room could tell what they were getting at.

Gasping theatrically at her answer, Rebecca and her friends shared several excited looks before all turning to face Christie, who was still trying to get over the fact that people, living, breathing, human people, were talking to her. "Christie, we think you might be the lost princess!" They announced, in their terrible whispers that meant the entire class and the teacher heard.

Around them, the class erupted into a chain of whispering, everyone gossiping and craning their necks to observe the similarities between Christie and some painting of the dead queen. Meanwhile, Christie had her head in her hands, cursing her own bad luck. Unnecessary attention was one thing, but everyone convincing themselves that she was a princess?

Then the nerves and sense of being in an unwanted spotlight vanished and she started smirking. Of course, they didn't know that she'd been born a male. With a great sense of dramatic irony, Christie covered her mouth with the back of her hand whilst she smirked and tried her hardest not to laugh. They were all getting so worked up and excited about the fact that she could be the long lost princess, not having a clue that it was rather impossible.

Still, when she spotted Marian, she wasn't sure if she was supposed to laugh more or finally be scared of the girl. Scowling at her mutinously, Marian had never looked quite this angry, not even when she'd beaten her in the book-balancing competition. For once, everyone's attention was on Christie, and this time it was positive.

It didn't stay in the classroom either, when Christie made to leave, she suddenly found she had three girls on her shoulder, asking incessantly about her past, trying to piece together the parts of a puzzle that they didn't realise already couldn't fit together. At first it was rather pleasant, very unnerving after half a term of stony silence, but a nice change.

Yet then the questions about her background didn't stop, it was all anyone wanted to talk to her about, ever. Now people would genuinely, openly smile at her in corridors, but then they'd come up to her and try to wriggle something out of her. Christie didn't know whether to lie, to tactfully divert the subject or just to remain silent. After so long of being hated, being this close to being liked was rather exhilarating and she didn't want to lose it, but it wasn't as if she could give them what they wanted, so eventually they were bound to get bored.

Whether they were getting bored or not however, Marian showed no signs of getting less angry as eventually even Jean and Abigail wandered over to Christie at the lunch table one day and asked her if she'd ever seen the painting of the queen, and this time she was able to honestly confess that she had not. The look on Marian's face would have made her day, if she was not so sure that something awful was going to come of it.

And come it did. Assigned as the one who had to stack the chairs at the end of poise class, Christie finally got to enjoy the peace and quiet of having no one else around to bother her, the endless questions that she could not answer beginning to get on her nerves. Everything was perfectly tranquil and calm until she'd finished, locked the store cupboard and then went over to the huge double doors leading out of the dance hall.

Tugging on the door handle with all her might, she quickly realised that the door had been locked. That was when her head was smashed against it.

Swearing colourfully, Christie should have seen that one coming. She was not going to be caught out again though, these were pretty little pampered princesses and she'd grown up in the shittiest part of town, where crime was at an all-time high. If they thought they could fight her, they were sorely mistaken.

"Oh Christie," The voice of Marian sighed. Idiot was making the first mistake in fighting someone; don't start talking and revelling in your victory until your opponent is safely secured and/or unconscious. Ignoring whatever smug little speech the girl had clearly prepared for her, Christie rolled up from her collapsed position on the floor and kicked out at the girl who had smashed her head against the cold hard metal of the door handles, feeling a little light-headed from it, but otherwise able to fight.

Upon turning, she discovered Marian had at least been smart enough to plan this out. Gathered with her were four other girls, although Christie was surprised to see none of them were her usual blonde minions, Jean and Abigail. Christie didn't know whether to be touched that the pair had denied the opportunity to beat the crap out of her, or to panic that the four who had replaced her were all talented sports players, one the hockey captain and the other three all on the team.

She recognised them vaguely, although none of them were in her class. They were some of the remaining individuals who still held a cold antipathy towards her, which might have something to do with the fact that she'd made a rather snide comment about hockey to their captain's face, not realising who she was at the time. Now it appeared her bad behaviour was coming back to bite her, hard. Still, even with four versus one, she had background training and righteous justice on her side… sort of.

Calmly stepping back out of her foot's reach, Marian sneered down at her, in every way the perfect, smug little bitch Christie had hoped she wasn't. "See, this is the kind of behaviour we just can't allow from the future princesses and lady royals," She sighed dramatically, looking back at her gathered audience who just snarled aggressively, watching Christie as if she were an animal to hunt. "How can we possibly allow someone like_ you_ to be the future of our kingdoms?"

This wasn't good. This really was not good. Christie had now noticed that not only were the gathered minions hockey players, but they were also carrying their hockey sticks. Being a prostitute, Christie had faced abuse before, especially as a male prostitute in an area where homophobia raged angrily and freely from the local rednecks. Baseball bats were a particular favourite amongst several gangs, and Christie knew it was almost impossible to move without seizing up with pain after one of those group beatings.

She couldn't let them win though; she needed to go out tonight, well aware that the money jar back at home was empty and had been for two days, since she'd been unable to creep out due to a recent increase in security from someone else trying to break into the school. If she was a bloodied, beaten mess, no one would hire her, and Emile could not only be thrown out of the house they'd fought for so long to keep, and end up starving. A twelve year old on the streets was a very different thing from a fourteen year old prostitute, and Christie knew that despite all his angry backtalk, Emile wouldn't last two days without a door to lock and a bed to crash in.

So screw these rich bitches. Jealously and prejudice all seemed like such petty, selfish emotions in the face of what she needed to do, and so yeah, she did have righteous justice on her side, even if it was so she could go out and get paid to be fucked.

You learnt to defend yourself. Unless you were an idiot, if you lived in the slums, you learnt to defend yourself. It didn't matter what your ethnicity was, your sexuality or your gang membership, no matter who you were, you always had to be prepared to run or fight for your life. It was how you could tell the difference between a slum-dweller and everyone else, they moved faster, had quick reflexes and were always watching everyone else to work out where the next threat was coming from. Which was why she was going to win this.

Whilst Marian continued on with her little speech about propriety and what was right, she forced herself to stand up, wincing slightly as her head spun, feeling the blood sliding down the side of her face. She'd had worse, so she quickly ignored the pain and focused on her opponents. They outnumbered her, so she'd have to target one at a time and avoid the rest, taking them out quickly. She knew exactly who to start with.

Grabbing Marian by the front of the shirt, she pulled her away from her minions and then, without remorse or hesitation, punched out at her face, which had now morphed into a look of terrified shock. It would have been a very satisfying action if four hockey jocks hadn't just started charging towards her.

Marian's nose was bleeding now and she was screaming, clutching at it. For the little princess, that would have to do, as now Christie had to demonstrate how slum life increased speed. Dodging past the four girls, she sprinted flat out to the back door. Fuck, this one had been locked too. Twisting around, she found she was still being pursued, now by a group of angry girls all armed with hockey sticks.

Dithering for just a moment, she launched herself away from the back door and ran over to the storage cupboard, fiddling with the keys Dame Devin had given her to unlock it. Seconds before the hockey team reached her, the lock clicked open and she slid inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Impossibly, she managed to relock it before the angry gang of girls chasing her managed to charge through it, so they ended up running into it, bashing against the wood but not breaking it down.

Stood in the dark of the cupboard, surrounded by stacked chairs and books, Christie exhaled heavily, her body trembling slightly with the shock of this all happening rather fast, panting to catch her breath. Audible from the other side of the door, Marian was clearly outraged, shouting her head off furiously, coming closer as she stormed over to inspect the locked door for herself. Christie could hear her high heels pacing around before it as she no doubt contemplated her next more in her ingenious evil plan.

When her voice finally spoke, it was dangerously soft, filled with quiet anger, so Christie had to strain her ears to hear it. "You think this makes any difference, lottery girl?" She purred quietly, a muted fury trembling in her voice as she whispered to her, "The whole school will quickly grow tired of this little theory of theirs, and then you'll be alone again," She laughed, not a horrendously evil cackle or anything fantastically comical like that, it was low and musical and it sounded almost innocent, "it's not as if you have any actual, _real_ friends."

Christie was locked in a cupboard, cornered by four hockey jocks and an angry future queen, but that didn't mean she could resist pissing them all off further. "Actually I think you'll find your little love interest, Alex and I," She began, both smirking and shaking as she spoke, "us two, we're_ really_ close."

It had the desired effect, although Christie didn't know if that was a good or bad thing anymore, she seemed to be signing her own death warrant, but at least she was having fun doing it. Yelling at her furiously, Marian started rattling off the usual insults, "I am going to kill you Christie Summers, until… until..." She seemed to struggle to finish that sentence, and Christie could practically hear her hands waving in the air in despair, "Until you are dead!"

Because there was nothing else she could do, Christie just laughed at that, "I'd hate for you to kill me until I was alive Marian." She drawled sarcastically, earning herself another round of insults, until the sounds of Marian's footsteps indicated she'd stormed off to vent elsewhere. The hockey jocks said nothing, but followed after her a few moments later, muttering between themselves, the words incoherent to Christie in her cupboard.

Exhaling slowly in relief at finally being left alone, Christie heard the bell for next lesson ring, but did not move to unlock the cupboard. Instead she leant against the locked door and closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly. She wasn't going to cry, because that was the kind of things these people would do. She just needed a moment to breathe, since it didn't matter how worn out she felt; that night she would have to go out and earn the money she needed to keep her brother alive and her mother in hospital. Her world was just like that, and there was nothing she could do about it, other than qualify as a lady royal and graduate this hell hole.


	13. Chapter 13 - Risk

**A/N: M rated chapter, with warnings for disturbing and violent scenes, with some graphicness. Strong adult themes.**

* * *

Sneaking out was by no means easy, but it was possible if you kept to the shadows and knew the spot there the barbed wire had been caved in from some past incident. Moving as stealthily as was humanly possible, Christie slipped herself free of the school grounds, carrying her heels in her hands, the bottom of the barbs catching the soles of her feet and slicing them up quickly when she vaulted over the fence. Swearing under her breath, she examined the cuts which fortunately weren't too deep and then started walking, money taking a priority over nursing her wounds.

She'd known that one client wasn't going to be enough, considering how it might not be possible to escape school again anytime soon, so after she'd been had in the back of a public toilet of a bar, she trailed back to the bar, determinedly keeping the limp out of her movements. Fortunately, it was a busy night, the bar well-populated by people drinking and looking for that night's fuck. It was easy enough to differentiate between the hookers and the customers; customers sat at booths and tables, whilst hookers leant against walls or at the bar, the difference in their attitude and clothing highlighting that they were for sale.

Allowing herself one drink, since it was going to be a long, long night, Christie wasn't technically of legal age, but that was hardly the main concern of a bar like this. Whilst she tried to down it as suggestively as possible, she was approached, her potential client drawing up beside her, leaning against the bar.

Burly, the man was normally the kind of client she would avoid, however due to low funds, it seemed she was going to have to accept what she could get tonight. He was badly shaven and dressed in a leather biker's jacket with the sleeves cut off, showing he had a surprisingly large amount of muscle for his age, which Christie judged to be around the forties. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers, so she put on her best smile and turned to face him, sipping her drink now in a flirtatious manner.

Looking her over coldly, judging whether or not he wanted to make the purchase, the man grunted something under his breath and then nodded wordlessly for her to follow him. Feeling rather cold inside, because no matter how thick your skin is things like this were always going to get to you, Christie left her glass on the bar top, pulled her top down and her skirt up, and trailed after him.

His car was a rundown ford, not a fancy motorbike like his jacket suggested but Christie was grateful for the fact that it meant she wouldn't be riding on the back of a high speed open vehicle with someone who was likely to be drunk. Hurrying round to clamber into the passenger seat, she discovered the seat belts had been ripped out of their sockets. She briefly considered complaining, but after glancing at the client one more, decided against it. She'd get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

They drove up into the district Christie lived in, or had done before charm school, and parked only two blocks down from where she lived, which was convenient. Clambering out of the car, Christie followed the man up into one of the apartment blocks, not saying a word, getting the impression that this client didn't want conversation.

His room was fairly basic, with an en suite bathroom, but little furnishing, only a bed, a set of draws and a few posters tacked here and there that were all from several decades ago, faded and clearly remainders from when counterculture had thrived. The room smelt thickly of something rich and unpleasant, a mix of sweat, alcohol and a foreign substance that Christie could not identify.

As she glanced around however, turning in a little circle to establish her surroundings, the back of her jacket was grabbed and she was yanked backwards, a hand suddenly finding its way into her hair. Another hand appeared before her, cupping two small pink pills. "Swallow," A low, gruff voice ordered and she was rendered motionless as the hand tightened, tugging her head up so it stretched out her neck.

Squirming, trying to break free of the grip, Christie should have known better as she then found herself being kicked in the back of her knees so she dropped down to her knees and a large, strong body secured her to the floor. "Swallow," It repeated more aggressively. When she turned her head away from his hand in a last desperate attempt to avoid getting drugged, the hand in her hair moved and instead an arm secured itself around her neck in a headlock and the hand forced her mouth open. The other hand then stuck the pills into her mouth and clamped it shut, stopping her from spitting them out. The hand that had been on her mouth then moved to pinch her nostrils shut so she could not breathe or scream.

As she started getting dizzy, her vision spinning due to a lack of oxygen she was forced to swallow, knowing being high around a man like this would be safer than being unconscious. Somehow, in any way possible, she'd have to get out of here.

Screaming the second her mouth was released, in the vain hope that someone might come running and save her, Christie tried to scramble free in the brief moment of the grip on her being loosened, but it only resulted in her being dragged back by her ankles and a booted foot kicking her in the side. "No, wait, stop-" She tried to protest, knowing that no physical action as going to get her out of this as she tried to reason with this man.

Roughly, he turned her over so she was lying on her back, facing him. Now that they were closer together, she could see his eyes properly. Fuck. His pupils were dilated and his skin was sweating. High clients were dangerous ones. Screaming again, this time out of unbridled desperation rather than an idea to escape, Christie tried to grab out at the man and push him off. The raw, hoarse noise was quickly cut off though when a set of knuckles collided with her cheekbones and caught her nose, tearing skin from her face and leaving an acidic stinging sensation behind.

Choking slightly at the force of the punch, Christie's body shook and with all the energy she had left she tried to fight back, to claw out at the man. His thick hand quickly secured itself around her throat however, and as she re-entered the dizzying state of oxygen deprivation, she knew with a desolate sense of hopelessness that she had lost.

His other hand started stripping her, forcing her limbs out of her clothes, tearing the T-shirt she wore off of her rather than easing it over her head, for his hand on her throat would have blocked it. Gasping in air when he released her, she looked down to realise she was entirely naked and he had stripped her down to her male form so that not only was she completely vulnerable and exposed, this wasn't something she could just wash over by undressing at the end of the night.

Christian used the release to try and pull himself free, but the man had straddled him, one arm keeping him firmly fixed to the floor. With no remorse or feeling, the man flipped him over once more and then slipped an arm around his stomach, so he could then yank him up onto his knees, sat on the floor on all fours like a dog.

He took one hans and secured it up around the top of Christian's thigs, forcing his legs apart so he was open. His belt and trousers were already undone as he then entered, sending a jolt through Christian as he was completely unprepared and tight, the entrance sending an unwelcome ripping sensation through his lower regions and his arms collapsed beneath him so his head was bowed to the floor, his arse held up by the two hands clamped under it, keeping it there as the unwelcome member was given movement.

It did not change when it began. If anything, the man became more violent, randomly hitting out at Christian whenever he seemed to deem him as not behaving correctly. Screwing his eyes shut to try and block it out, Christian trembled violently, both because of the thrusting and the fear, terrified, violated gasps often escaping his throat. Due to his lack of vision, other things intensified, the feel of the rough callouses on the man's hands on his skin, his over-powering scent of too much cologne and alcohol, the odd, horrific animalistic grunting noises he was making, all forcing their way into Christian's brain and not leaving him alone.

It was not sex. During sex, Christian could focus and keep in control, even when he was being dominated, he was still getting paid and doing his job. Here, this man was taking something from him, lashing out at his insides when he was at his most vulnerable, and he got a twisted, breaking sensation that he wasn't sure if he was ever going to be able to fix. No matter how much he wished for it though, the assault did not stop.

Half way through, when Christian was sure his insides were about to break, the man picked up one of the shoes he'd discarded on the floor and used that to beat him instead, the heel cutting where his fists had simply scraped. Yelling out, begging for him to stop in a scratchy, pleading tone, Christian felt another spasm of pain ripple through his body, disorientating him so he was lost and entirely alone in this. With another hit from the clipped edge of the shoe, he was knocked unconscious.

When Christian woke up, the man had vanished. All he was left with was pain, inside and out, his muscles all aching heavily, but worse than that was the ghost the man had left behind inside of him, parasitic and leeching off of him. When clients were a bit rough, Christian at least had the knowledge he was doing this willingly, for money. He snorted rather darkly at that thought. There was no way he was getting paid this time.

Then the snort turned into a hopelessly broken sob that bubbled up his throat and multiplied into several more quite against his will. Christian had naturally been treated roughly before; it came with the territory, but never like that. Rolling over, slumping onto his side and not caring that it made every inch of his body flare up with a dull, stabbing pain, he brought his knees up into his chest and bowed his head down into them. For the first time in two years, he allowed himself to cry, not really sure he could stop himself anymore.

Of course, it didn't end there. He couldn't just leave himself lying on the floor of a man who had raped him. Looking down at himself, he realised the full extent of what had happened. Purplish bruises were forming all over his body, turning blackish blue around his thighs and hips and there were more cuts and gashes on him than he remembered receiving before being knocked out.

Forcing himself to stand up, he tried to walk over to the bathroom, but his legs collapsed under him as he took his first step. Biting back another sob, knowing it would not help, he pushed himself up, took a deep breath and then continued on, wobbling, but remaining upright.

Entering the bathroom that was just as simply furnished as the bedroom, Christian found the sink and collapsed over it. His arms shook as he gripped the sides of the basin, and he took several moments to gather the will to look up into the mirror positioned over it.

God, he was never going to be able to pass this off. His right-hand cheekbone was bloodied badly, a puffy dark red scab forming over it but cut in places so it was still bleeding here and there. His brow and left eye were blackened and his top lip had swelled to twice its usual size, cut in several areas. Good luck passing as a princess now.

Laughing, the noise without humour and one of fright, his body quivered as he ducked his head again, trying to hold back tears. Amongst the fear and the bleak desperation to turn back time and never, ever let anything like that ever happen to him, something new began to rise up. Panic.

Despite his shaky legs, he belted it through the bathroom door and collapsed on his knees by his jacket, diving into the inside pocket. "Fuck," He whispered, gazing down at the clothing with a lost numbness. "Fuck." It was empty.

He'd have to earn it back. Not only had the bastard drugged and raped him, he'd apparently robbed him too. Biting down on his hand to stop himself shouting, trying to use pain to focus himself, Christian knew he was going to be useless, looking like this. Unless of course he catered himself to a group of individuals who preferred that sort of thing…

He had to. By the end of the night, which was really the early morning, he didn't know what was what anymore, too tired and numb to think straight. Certain places existed where bloodied and bruised could be popular, where his broken state had been used to its fullest. Either way, by the end of the night he'd earned his keep, over three hundred dollars tucked into his Jacket pocket. He just had to live with the nightmare he'd submitted himself too.

He half climbed half fell through the window to his old house. He hadn't bothered to reattach the bra by the end of the night, the clip being right over a particularly sore gash. Bleary eyed, he'd shoved the money in the jar, not bothering to lock it in the cupboard since his mind couldn't process such complicated procedures, and then practically crawled back to his own room, toppling down onto his bed in defeat. It barely even occurred to him that he was supposed to be elsewhere as he embraced sleep, trying to somehow put everything that had happened that night behind him, knowing it was never going to work.


	14. Chapter 14 - Friends

**A/N: Banter heals all wounds.**

It was horribly surreal, going back to princess charm school life after a night like that. She sat there in the brightly lit classroom, stubbornly ignoring all the stares she was receiving for the state of her face, which she had tried to patch with makeup but she could only do so much. She'd only just managed to slip back into school in time, but hadn't had time to wash off the scent of dirt, sweat and alcohol that still clung to her, a constant reminder of how she'd been forced to earn the money she'd needed.

It had one plus side, in that now people were quiet around her, not asking questions when she was clearly in such a state, either keeping away because of the smell or because of the mess her face was in. Naturally Marian, whose pride had been hurt from yesterday –that fight seemed so far away and meaningless now- still scorned her relentlessly, but it no longer had any effect. What were a few cruel words and threats compared to having your body and soul broken?

During study period, when everyone was gathered in the library, Christie was surprised to find Isabelle coming over and sitting next to her, a large history book detailing human sacrifice through the ages dumped down before her. "Marian can be a real bitch, can't she?" Isabelle commented wryly, not looked over at Christie for a moment, raising her eyebrows when she did.

Not having the energy to say anything particularly interesting back, Christie, -who had her arms folded on the table and her head rested in them, trying to sleep to make up for the lack of it last night- just shrugged. "Yep."

"You're kind of a bitch too," Isabelle continued to observe, sounding perfectly calm and non-offensive as she insulted her.

Twisting her head sideways to now look at her unexpected companion, Christie frowned. "I find it difficult to respond to that," She confessed dully, realising she wasn't being insulted when a playful smirk broke out over Isabelle's face.

"Want to be twisted, cruel beings together?" She proposed. She was offering Christie a chance to vent, not asking her how she'd gotten her war wounds, but giving her a chance to heal them in a way that her body could not.

Smiling slowly, gratefulness managing to worm its way through the black, hollow sensation inside her chest, she sat up. "I find you're making me an offer I can't refuse," she replied with a sardonic smirk, looking Isabelle over and deciding that whilst it was great that everyone else had a curiosity for her because they all thought she was some lost princess, this was the kind of person she wanted, and now needed, to be her friend.

"Excellent, because Abigail has been getting on my last damn nerve recently." And just like that, they were friends, calmly quipping insults about other people and the disaster of a world around them as though they were old hands at it.

* * *

Alex had completely stopped sitting on chairs when it came down to Christian's room, for he had discovered crashing on the bed gave him the advantage of a safe distance from the irritable cross-dresser, as well as the ability to study him carefully. For today, that was particularly important, for the transvestite's appearance was unusually alarming.

Decorating his skin were bruises and cuts, going up his exposed forearms and disappearing under the rolled up shirt sleeves, patterning his neck and colouring his face, which in the garish light of the desk lampshade he'd turned on to work with, looked like the sorts of wounds you'd see in a gore-filled horror film.

When Alex had asked about them, he'd simply been told to fuck off and mind his own business, and he could tell from the harsh, icy tone that Christian had used that he was not to press the matter further. Never before had he heard him be quite so cold or so furious, and yet there'd been an unnerving shake in his voice that meant Alex almost felt guilty for bringing it up.

To try and cover up his mishap of asking something that was not meant to be asked, he tried to fill the tense silence with some meaningless, pointless light-hearted conversation instead. "Can you sing?" He asked randomly, because a question like that couldn't offend anyone.

"What?" Christian sighed after a moment, not his usual snappy or aggressively cheerful self today. He had dark, stormy bags under his eyes and he moved and spoke lethargically, yet Alex had a feeling it went beyond tiredness, hence the reason he was trying to cheer him up by distracting him.

"Can you sing?" He repeated, grinning as he did so in an attempt to heal Christian with the sheer willpower of unrelenting cheeriness.

"What, no, why?" Christian practically stuttered, and Alex just smiled smugly since it seemed he'd successfully distracted hm.

"Just curious," He mused gleefully, giving Christian his best happy face.

It seemed things started going wrong when Christian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You're doing that stereotyping thing again aren't you?" He accused him slowly, although Alex tried to stay positive by the fact that he sounded a little less tired before, and a little more angry. He'd learnt by now that Christie seemed to enjoy getting angry.

"No, I just wondered," He assured him, trying to breeze over it with another innocent smile, but Christian's expression darkened, and this time it wasn't his usual hot, determined anger, it was something unnervingly deeper than that and his expression held no humour or passion whatsoever.

"Can you stop fucking assuming all this shit about me just because I cross-dress?" Christian demanded tightly, his words bitten and trembling with an anger that Alex had a feeling involved more than just him now.

Backing off, uncomfortable with how this had gone rapidly downhill, Alex tried to apologise with his expression. "Jesus, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were."

Sighing heavily in exasperation, Alex's own patience ran dry and he glared stubbornly back at Christian, deciding that for this one time, he was going to stand up for himself, since there was nothing good or positive about the anger he was facing. "Christ, why do you always get so bitchy the second I say something about you that could be seen as the slightest bit stereotypical?" He demanded hotly, his cheeks and ears flaring with flush as he felt his chest clench uncomfortably.

"Because I don't like the idea of you making me some stereotype figurine in your head. It's fucking degrading." Christian snarled back aggressively, the hand he had holding the back of his chair clenched so tightly his knuckles were sheet white and he was visibly shaking.

Drawing back slightly, Alex just stared at him, confused and slightly scared of what was happening. Normally it was just banter, no harm done. Something had happened though -and Alex would be damned if it didn't have something to do with those bruises- that had really gotten to Christian. Nothing ever got to Christian, no matter how many insults were flung at him by the other girls or how rude Alex was to him, he always either laughed or bitched it off. Honestly, the idea of anything breaking him scared Alex.

"I don't," He whispered quietly, dropping his eyes to his lap as he fumbled with his fingers, his body curling in on itself slightly in an attempt to shield itself.

"Yes, you do, you have this little image of-" Christian started to rant as usual, but this time it was Alex who cut him off.

"No, I don't. I mean, I did, but you kind of violently trampled it long ago." Smirking softly, he glanced back up at Christian to see if he was still going to bite his head off. He seemed to have relaxed just a little bit, although he was still scowling.

"Then why did you ask me if I could sing?" He inquired, his voice a little more patronising than before, which in his case was a good sign. It was far better than the raw, cold hurt that had been shaking through his voice before.

Trying to coax him back into being his usual self again, Alex forced himself to grin and roll his eyes. "Because Christian, I was just curious. It was something to ask."

"Right," Christian murmured sarcastically, but Alex didn't know whether he believed him or not since instead of glowering at him, he was now wearing a bemused smirk and had his eyebrows arched as always.

"Sheesh, you're impossible sometimes!" Alex exclaimed to seal the deal of bringing this all back to the safety of being all in good humour, rather than whatever they had managed to slip into. It clearly wasn't something Christian wanted to discuss, so he would keep out of it.

"What can I say? I try my best."

That confirmed they were back in the safety zone, and Alex felt himself relaxing, smiling at the familiarity of the comfort of comedy. Glancing back over at Christian, who'd now turned back to his work, diligently filling out his homework wordlessly, Alex watched him silently. An odd, unwelcome lump started forming in his throat as he was made very aware that the cheerful bitchiness was just a defensive mechanism for Christian for the darker side that he had just witnessed.

Swallowing back the unwanted bout of sympathy, knowing that was the kind of thing that Christian would bluntly reject, he did his best to maintain their safety net. "No fucking kidding," He teased dryly, settling back into a slouch, although he kept his eyes fixed on the back of Christian's head. Gasping with mocking theatricality, Christian twisted round and grinned wickedly at him. It seemed his distracting him had worked rather well.

"Oh my, a swear word! Don't let mummy catch you," He jeered easily, both making Alex laugh and pout at the same time.

"Talk about hypocrisy much?" He muttered under his breath, keeping it quiet in case it ended up triggering another bout of antagonism from Christian, which he wasn't sure he could handle again without crying like a small child.

"What?" Unfortunately, it seemed the cross-dresser's Vulcan-hearing meant he'd picked up on it all the same.

Sighing, knowing he'd never get out of this one alive now, Alex avoided his eyes again, picking at his nails to distract himself. "You do it way more than I do, the little picture in your head of me thing," He pointed out a little meekly, his cheeks flushing scarlet as he did so as he awaited the ranting and raging that was bound to follow.

"I was just teasing you Alex," Christian assured him gently instead, and when Alex looked up he was spinning around in his chair, his legs tucked up onto the seat and he looked perfectly relaxed.

Shocked at how well his cheering-up routine appeared to have worked, Alex supposed that since he already had Christian in the playful joking stage, he may as well continue his point, since it was something that had been bothering him rather a lot recently, not that he normally allowed other people's opinions of him to matter.

"Yeah, because you see me as a little, spoilt, mummy's-boy prince," He replied coolly, relieved when instead of getting defensive like he always did when confronted about anything, Christian just laughed easily.

"No I don't, I was just poking fun at you; _mocking_ the stereotype in fact," He countered airily, waving his hand in the air in a very, very flamboyantly gay fashion -Alex didn't care if that was being stereotypical, it was true-.

"You're so full of shit." He grinned and shook his head, realising he was supposed to be getting on with homework and grabbed his bag from the floor, emptying the contents out onto Christian's bed.

"Wash your mouth out," Christian barked with false strictness, cackling when Alex threw his jotter at him and missed.

"I am going to murder you." He growled in the best pissed-off voice he could do, because otherwise he'd end up cracking up and laughing.

Chewing his pen –the stolen one- Christian swivelled round on the chair and then stuck his legs out, resting his feet on the edge of the bed, his eyebrows shooting up. "Until I'm dead?" He checked, which admittedly managed to break Alex's serious mask. He'd been given a rather embellished tale of Christian's encounter with Marian in the dance hall, although he also got the impression it had been heavily edited for other reasons too, since it didn't exactly make sense. Either way, he couldn't help giggling like a six year-old in response to that.

"Yep, I'm going all the way," He added through his laughter, doubling over and panting slightly as he tried to recover from that rather over the top laughing fit.

"How daring."

"Shut up and do your homework."

"Yes sir."

Being back to easy banter felt rather fantastic, although Alex had the feeling that someday he was going to need to ask Christian if he was alright, giving him time to recover, but he couldn't just leave him when he'd so obviously been damaged. "I made an awkward friend today by the way," Christian informed him conversationally, apparently not done talking and if it helped, Alex was happy to oblige.

"You, a functioning, female, human-being friend?" Alex asked sceptically, aware of the rumour going around about how Christian was the lost princesses –which they had shared several inside jokes about by now- but not aware of any of his classmates actually wanting to be friends.

"Mhmm. It was weird."

"I have no doubt that it was," He drawled back, his gaze becoming slightly unfocused as his mind wandered when his gaze refocused on the black eye Christian was sporting. How on earth did Christian manage to act so perfectly fine and content with so many bruises and bashes on his skin, and that much hatred built up inside of him? Alex didn't know whether to be impressed or pity him.

"We were mean about people and bonded over it."

"I thought you hated the bitchy gay stereotype?" Alex pointed out, which earned him a respectful nod from his companion.

"Nicely done," He congratulated him formally, although it was slightly ruined by a smirk.

"Thank you."

Since they'd come this far, Alex reckoned he could push it further if he tried to be careful and went about it lightly enough. "Although even you have to admit, you fulfil the stereotype rather well at times." Sighing, Christian gave him a rather depreciative look.

"You're not going to drop this, are you?" He guessed dully, sounding bored, but not angry.

"Probably not," Alex admitted shamelessly, earning an eye-roll from Christian.

"Explain your point properly then, so I can crush it into the ground."

"Well, like it or not you can be rather bitchy, you have fancy clothes-" Christian cut him off by snorting at that one, but he pressed on anyway, "and you are very effeminate, even when you're male."

"And you're hygienic, prude-like and you sulk like a bad-tempered teenage girl, that doesn't mean you're automatically gay." Christian countered quickly, back into his usual type of arguing, where Alex felt safe, although he bristled slightly at that comment.

"That's not what I'm saying, I'm just pointing out that you fit the stereotype." He corrected him, scowling when Christian just smirked at him patronisingly.

"I beg to differ."

It seemed they weren't going to get very much work done today, so Alex put his pen back in his pencil case and sighed. "Look, I can prove it. As a guess, you were bullied at school?"

"No more than anyone else in the slums is bullied, no," Christian informed him factually, but that wasn't the only trait of the stereotype that Alex could pick on, although he was rather surprised. Christian was, for a male, fairly short and very feminine in his appearance, he looked the sort that would get automatically targeted.

Still, he pressed on with great determination. "Alright then… all of your friends were girls?" He guessed, wincing when Christian just smirked and shook his head discerningly.

"Haven't you noticed yet that I don't get on very well with girls?" Christian pointed out; giving Alex what must be the most condescending look in the history of all looks.

"Good point… okay then, you have an interest in clothes and fashion?" He presumed, already bracing himself to be shot down once again, although this was the one he was most confident on, considering how Christian had been so dressed up when he'd come to chase him down at school.

"Other than for their practical uses, no."

Rocking back in his chair, Christian put his feet back up on the bed, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "I like dick, which is pretty gay," He supplied, being explicit completely naturally and smirking in bemusement when it made Alex flinch and then blush crimson in embarrassment.

"There's no need to be vulgar. Alright then, what's the most stereotypically gay thing you're good at?" He inquired, hoping to get something good to use against him in his argument.

Pursing his lips as he considered that question, but at least seeming willing to answer it, Christian dropped his feet down and then half turned away from him in the chair. "I can draw, a bit," He added quickly, before hurrying to turn his back on Alex, using his homework as an excuse not to look at him.

Whilst Alex had been getting rather enthusiastically into that argument, he couldn't help what he did next, the opportunity was just too perfect. Quietly setting his books down onto the floor, clearing the bed, he stretched out on his side, resting his head on his hand, his arm bent before him. He thought he'd mimicked the position rather well.

Eventually, once he registered that Alex hadn't replied, Christian glanced back over his shoulder. Then he turned around and full on stared at Alex. "Please tell me you are not doing what I think you're doing," He begged numbly, looking on with a mix of horror and badly hidden laughter. Putting on his best sexy, husky voice, Alex pulled a face and simply answered,

"Paint me like one of your French girls Jack."


	15. Chapter 15 - Plans Gone Wrong

Alex was feeling rather proud of himself.

"What is it?" Ash asked in a whisper, curiously eying his latest purchase.

"A Barbie doll," Alex informed him factually, trying to sound formal and clinical but he kept smirking.

One either side of him, Jem and Caine were both craning their necks to look over his shoulder, peering at the aforementioned Barbie doll. "Is it… a tranny?" Jem queried slowly, eyeing the thing suspiciously whilst Caine snickered beside him.

"Transvestite is the correct term," Alex corrected him automatically, as he'd been trained to.

"Alex, I hate to ask the obvious question but," Jem began slowly, being the mouthpiece of the group this time it seemed, as Logan looked rather disinterested -as usual- and Ash simply looked a little affronted by the object, whilst Caine -as always- was laughing, "why did you decide to purchase this particular item?"

Grinning to himself, Alex toyed with the plastic packaging of the doll. "It's just a present for a friend," He explained, telling the truth, although really it had been more of a joke than a present. The rest of the group had dragged him along with them into the city that day –Saturday- so he'd made his excuses to Christian and been a good friend and tagged along with them. When he'd seen this in a convenience store they'd stopped in to buy the kind of food they'd never be allowed back at school, he saw it and immediately knew it was the kind of thing that Christian would get a kick out of ranting about it for several minutes.

Whilst still being sealed in plastic, the paper packaging part florescent pink, the front was still transparent so the doll itself could be inspected for purchase. It was nice that Barbie was trying to branch out and cover all the princesses of the world, and once he was done ranting about stereotypes, Alex had the feeling that Christian would end up praising it and cherishing it forever. However its… _aesthetics_ were the kind of thing that Christian would kick off at.

It was the kind of thing that Alex would have drawn –if he could draw, which sadly he could not- to depict his idea of a typical transvestite before having met Christian. It had Hollywood plastic surgery style duck lips, painted fuchsia, a feather boa slunk around its shoulders, orange skin and more make up on than seemed possible to fit onto one face. The clothes too were the kind of thing parents could use to complain about if they were going to get rejected for being politically incorrect, since the word scanty didn't even begin to cover them.

True, it could have been much, much worse, but Christian had been far too tranquil since he'd gotten those bruises and had calmed down, so Alex thought this might cheer him up. So, after returning back in the early evening of the day, he told his friends he'd meet them at dinner and went off to deliver the joke, an announcement that was met by a chorus of wolf whistles and lewd comments from Ash and Caine.

Once he'd navigated through the corridors of the school, avoiding Marian when she turned into the same one as him by hiding in a classroom –he was such a ninja- he made his way up to room ninety-four, thankfully no longer followed by girls every time he did so anymore. Upon knocking, he got no reply, and so supposed Christian either had headphones on or was being a little moody bitch, so he felt perfectly comfortable just barging right on in.

Surprisingly, Christian wasn't in his room. For anyone else, this would have been a perfectly ordinary fact, since most of the population of the rest of the school were out on the lawn or doing things, but Alex had noticed by now that whenever possible, Christian seemed to automatically hibernate in his room and avoid all human contact.

Checking his watch, Alex noted how it was nearly six, so if the school day was structured anything like theirs was, they'd have their formal meet in a few minutes, where the teachers and such would address them and make long, boring speeches. Noticing that her school uniform was thrown over the back of her chair, Alex was able to deduce that somewhere in the next few minutes, Christian was bound to come back in order to change, since uniform was compulsory for these formal school events. Thus he went over and sat himself up into his usual spot on the bed, looking over the Barbie doll whilst he waited, reading the back, simply because it was something to do.

Christian did come as he'd predicted, but not at all in the manner he'd expected him too. Instead, whilst Alex was pretending that attempting to read Arabic was highly interesting, the doors that lead to the balcony were opened. In stepped Christie, looking exhausted and run down and so it took her a few moments, but once she realised Alex was there, she froze. They both stared at one another.

Christie was not dressed in her uniform, but she was not dressed how Alex had ever seen her before either. Instead her face was heavily made-up in an over the top manner, but was also smudged in several places that did not look purposeful. Her skirt barely covered the fact that she was male in sex and the rest of her clothes were also entirely inappropriate, be it inside school or out. Alex had seen her dressed in a vaguely similar manner before and had thought it was rather trashy but presumed that was simply the style of people who came from the slums. Now however, as the colour drained from Christie's face, he began to put other pieces together.

She was dressed worse than the joke doll he'd bought. She was dressed like a… this time Alex wasn't going to be naïve and deny the word existed, nor was he going to deny that it could be possible. She was dressed like a hooker.

What with her sneaking in through the balcony doors, her attire, and the attitude of being caught in the act of something terrible, Alex had a horrifying sense of realisation as he felt as though he could, somehow, impossibly, be right. "Christie," He said very slowly, looking her over again and now the similarities between what his idea of a hooker looked like and what Christie looked like seemed even more obvious, "why are you dressed like that?"

Christie had never been speechless in his company, but now she stammered awkwardly, glancing down at herself and hurriedly tugging down the skirt. Held in one of her hands was a pair of boots that looked as though they would cover more than half a leg, the heel several inches high, whilst on her feet were sneakers that didn't match the rest of the outfit whatsoever, proving she'd had to walk a long distance from somewhere.

He didn't need her to confirm or deny it, for by now he knew it. "You're a whore," He realised aloud, his voice dull and lifeless as he just started at her, somehow not able to feel disbelief. If anything, it seemed obvious. Of course someone like_ this_ was going to be involved in something as disgusting as that.

Paling visibly, Christie looked more terrified than Alex had ever seen her. Actually, he'd never seen her scared before, but now she was staring wide-eyed at him in what could be called nothing less than panic. "Alex," She began, but she chocked back her words when he glared at her.

"You're a whore," He repeated, not sure if it was an accusation or a confirmation for himself now. He supposed he should be glad that Christie wasn't giving him the insult of thinking him stupid by trying to cover it up now.

Instead she swallowed and straightened, taking on a noble sort of pride that didn't seem fitting of someone dressed like that. "Yes. I am." She agreed stonily, looking back at him straight in the eye, shameless. It was sick.

"How can you just stand there, saying yes as though it is an honour?" Alex demanded, not meaning to shout but his voice suddenly shot up several decibels and in the quiet of the room it seemed to resonate, ringing back in Alex's ears. He didn't know why he felt so betrayed, but he did so all the same. The deception seemed cruel, even for Christie.

Scowling at him, acting aggressive although she was rocking on her feet awkwardly, Christie glared back, seeming perfectly resilient and unrelenting. "Because it's the truth, and I am telling you it." The words made sense to Alex, but they didn't seem to get through to the twisted cold that had seized up his chest, making him feel crueller than usual, unforgiving.

"It's sick," He spat back, twisting his nose up in disgust at the idea of someone doing something so dirty as to sell themselves for sex.

Christie's fright and defensiveness seemed to melt now and the parasitic, cold anger that Alex had only seen once before suddenly flared up all over again. "Fuck you Alex," She snapped, losing the rocking motion and standing her ground firmly, her fists clenching. "You don't know a fucking thing."

The ignorance ploy, again. Alex knew better than to allow Christie to explain, because the second she did things would start becoming logical and he would understand. He didn't want to understand, he wanted to be angry, and so he ignored her. "I know that you're the lowest kind of person there is, _selling sex_." He hissed quietly.

Blatantly outraged, Christie responded with her usual unforgiving, heated sarcasm, "Well done Alex, I'm so glad that you actually know what a prostitute is, have a fucking gold star," She yelled back and Alex was extremely grateful that room ninety-four was far out of the way of anyone's earshot.

"You always do this, act like just because you come from a bad background that you immediately know everything," Alex snapped back, knowing he was speaking out of turn and being exactly the asshole that Christie had first accused him of being, but something else was making him speak now and it was bitter and overpowering and the only thing stopping him from crying, although he didn't understand where the shaky, fragile feeling that just wanted to break down and bawl like a small child was coming from.

He ended up feeling rather intimidated when Christie's expression darkened to become murderous, "I think I understand prostitution a little bit better than you _prince_, after all, I've been there, done that, got the fucking T-shirt, and lived to tell the tale." She rattled off, all very quickly and in the same cutting, aggressive tone.

Alex was shaking now, the kind of uncontrollable, violent shakes that shivered through his entire body, leaving his mind feeling numb and distant. He could feel that he was about to do something stupid, so with one last hateful glance back at the whore, he turned and stormed out of the room, not bothering to smile nicely for all the people he passed, in too much of a state to manage it anyway. All this time, Christie had been sneaking out and having hundreds of people fucking her, for whatever despicable reason people did things like that. Sluts. He couldn't believe he was crying over something so _stupid_.


	16. Chapter 16 - Understandably Nervous

Christie had to admit, it had been a stupid plan, using the weekend's daylight hours in an attempt to earn enough money to fix the lock on the door and windows, but then after there'd been a break in and the twelve year old Emile had been forced to hide in the wardrobe whilst the house was stripped bare, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Naturally though, it was bound to have consequences.

It was lunch break, but Christie was sat up in her room on her bed instead of the food court, sulking. The stupid, ridiculous doll Alex had left behind was definitely taunting her, and she held it out in her lap whilst glaring at it mutinously. This was exactly the kind of thing that Alex would have gotten a kick out of pissing her off with, which they would then mock endlessly later. Now instead everything had turned to shit.

As Christie had predicted, he had not turned up to any tutoring sessions since that Saturday, and honestly, Christie didn't have the guts to go and hunt him out herself. Avoiding him was much, much easier.

Of course, steering clear of Alex was going to be rather difficult in thirty minutes, considering how it was their weekly dance classes and her partner was the one person who knew she was both a cross-dresser and a hooker, and who was also seemingly incredibly angry at her. Logically, what she should be concerned about was that this anger would fuel him to reveal everything she'd trusted him with –although admittedly most of those 'trusted issues' were all discovered by complete accident-.

Logic and she weren't exactly the best of friends however, so instead of going about this calmly and practically as she should have done, she was torn between beating some sense into him and bawling at his feet. Naturally she was furious that after all of her hard work to get him to be more open-minded he'd immediately reached some prejudiced conclusions about her the second he realised the truth, berating her for what she'd had to do to keep her family housed and living.

He was a prince though; he wouldn't understand unemployment levels or the fact that a fourteen year old was never going to find any other way to make money anywhere. Perhaps she should have been more honest with him and educated him on these things; he was one of the future rulers after all. It didn't really matter now, he'd found out and she'd understood exactly what he'd meant when he'd screamed at her. Of course someone as sheltered at that would treat sex as this precious, fragile object that was not to be messed with or sold, but it had been her livelihood for over two years, so she wasn't just going to let someone mouthing off about it as if they knew and understood everything slide.

Yet instead of storming off to find him and giving him what for, there she was slumped over her bed, glowering at a doll which really didn't deserve such cruel treatment for anything other than looking like a total disaster. Honestly, she used to be tougher than this.

Chucking the doll across the length of the room, she rolled over and growled into the mattress, determined to shake the urge to bunk off of dance class just to avoid him for that little bit longer. She had no legitimate reason to be like this, to be _scared_ to go and speak the truth to someone who was just being ignorant. Alex wasn't a bad person; she'd proven that much to herself so far. In fact, considering where he was in life, he was pretty damn decent.

Oh please, she knew exactly why she felt down right nauseous and was panicking as if she was a small, emotionally erratic child who had no self-control whatsoever. It was one of the worst, most unwanted feelings possible, yet even as she stuck her head under the pillow and growled various insults at Alex into the bedding, she still couldn't shake it.

This mental conversation was not happening, not now, not with everything how it was. Sitting bolt upright, she gave her reflection in the mirror on the wall opposite the finger and stuck out her tongue at it, because it seemed her maturity levels had reverted back to that of a seven year old, and then swung herself off of the bed. Straightening out her clothes and readjusting her wig, she nodded to herself for the sakes of her own courage and marched off to dance class.

In the ten minute journey there, she seemed to constantly alternate between having a nervous breakdown and fuming at the ears. One minute it was screw Alex for judging her without any knowledge or right to do so, the other it was panicking about what he was going to say next.

The real problem was that she needed him. Sure, she needed him to tutor her and to keep her secrets and such, but he had been her first real friend here –magical sprites excluded-. After the… unpleasant encounter with a badly judged client –how could she had been so stupid as to risk a dodgy client simply because she was panicking about keeping the house, for which the rent was due the next day?- she'd realised that, although it sounded idiotic and weak, she needed Alex for other things too.

After everything she had done, she was more than used to facing challenges and mending herself because she'd learnt other people weren't going to do it for her, but that had been a breaking on a level beyond what she had been used to. A tight, cold sense of being damaged had followed her around everywhere, making everything just that bit more difficult, little reminders waiting in the most stupid, insignificant of things, such as a mirror or her own shoes. Thanks to Isabelle and Alex, she'd be able to cope with that, so the least she could do to say thanks was give Alex an explanation rather than a rampage.

She held her nerve despite the mood swings and slipped into the dance hall, a little late but there all the same. Already the boys had arrived, mingled in amongst the girls as they all chatted together, no longer nervous and giggling around one another since it seemed that by now, they'd realised they were all perfectly human, whatever the gender. Amongst their sea of comfort however, Christie entered, a jittery mess underneath a composed surface, searching out a head of dark curls.

Just when she let herself both hope and fear that he had been the one to pull a no show, someone caught her shoulder, and she knew who it was before she turned. "Alex-" She started to say, then cut off when she realised, no, she hadn't known who it was before she turned. So much for trying to be psychic.

"Christie, I've noticed Alex hasn't been tutoring you anymore," Marian simpered, her hand not exactly squeezing her shoulder, but there was something rather threatening about how she didn't break the physical contact even when Christie had turned.

Well, if Marian wanted her to vent her anger on her, she was more than happy to oblige. "Don't tell me something happened?" Marian simpered with one of the scariest fake smiles Christie had ever witnessed in her life, which made her look like one of the puppets used in over the top satire shows. Christie had a nice little comeback for that comment which would put Marian perfectly in her place, but before she could even open her mouth she was interrupted. "Actually I've just been rather busy recently, Marian," Alex interjected coolly.

Christie was stuck in between the two of them as they exchanged rather odd glances that made even her uncomfortable, stony and unflinching until their eyes broke away from one another in unison. Catching her arm with his hand, Alex smoothly dragged Christie away, no doubt so he could make his threats or insults. This time though, she was going to get in her side of the story before he stormed off, after all, she had the whole hour to do it.

Alex wasn't quick enough to launch into his lecture however, as before he could speak Miss Privet entered the room, calling everyone's attention and silencing them. Stuck in the middle of the crowd of people, Alex tightened his grip momentarily on her arm before hastily dropping it, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and keeping his eyes locked on their instructor, purposefully not looking away at her.

The dance they'd been learning for the past two weeks was not so well designed for conversation, unlike the standard waltz dances they'd been doing previously. This one dated back even further into the dusty depths of history and was apparently a group dance, not one Christie had ever learnt but fortunately the rest of the class had been mostly beginners too. It was the kind of thing you'd drag out of a period drama, but the real problem Christie now had with it was it made it very difficult to set out a logical speech for Alex, as the partners would be separated most of the time, only to join for a few seconds at periodic intervals, and even then they'd be quickly separated.

Still, waste not want not, or however the saying went. Joining in with the line of girls, stood a metre apart from Alex who was situated in the opposite line, Christie grimaced determinedly and looked him back in the face to gauge his beginning state. Oh, so it appeared he'd gone for the poker face, how incredibly unhelpful and annoying. Perhaps he was going to ignore her for the entirety of the lesson, and then the rest of the year? Yet he had saved her from Marian -albeit only to drag her away and shout at her- so perhaps there was some degree of hope.

When the music started up and Miss Privet called for them to run through the first movement until they were all confident with it, Christie admittedly started getting flustered, losing her nerve of saying anything when they stepped in towards each other, saying nothing as her voice got stuck in her throat. She'd thought out hundreds of neat little speeches to use, yet at that moment they had all completely abandoned her, none seeming to fit, since she only had a few seconds to convey what she needed to.

Stuck, she stumbled somewhat clumsily through the next few steps, exchanging places with the girl next to her and doing a silly little dipping motion. The music was high in pitch, mainly violins and it had a rather haunting ghostly quality to it, but apparently it fitted the slow, graceful dance that they were learning. Either way, the minor key didn't help her nerves.

As they circled, drew in and then parted back into lines again, she was concentrating on the dance well enough to know that the second time she'd have to cross swords with Alex was coming up in only a few moments, and yet she was still stunted. Should she whisper something that might guilt him into not being an asshole, or beg him to listen to her side? How on earth was she supposed to call this one?

She imagined she looked like something of a petrified puppy when she next came face to face with Alex, although she had apparently masked it perfectly as his face showed no signs that she looked abnormal. Her voice hitched in her throat, she knew she had to say something to get this over and done with, but her heart felt as though it was beating faster than a humming bird's wings and her mind was a muddled, angry, broken mess, so as she stepped back in towards Alex, keeping her gaze downcast to avoid letting his face unnerve her further, she had nothing to say.

They drew up by each other's sides, which at least meant she could bring her eyes up as their bodies were paralleled, all down the dance hall, the girls and the boys mixed in with each other in a singular, interlocking line. Simply because she thought it might kick her mouth into functioning, she glanced over at the side of Alex's head, swallowing tightly as she did so. Ever so slightly twisted around, his head was not side on as he glanced back too, so her plan to avoid meeting his eyes was completely ruined as she froze, unable to look away for fear of appearing weak.

"I'm sorry."

Pulling away, they drew back into their separate lines, parting once again so they were no longer aligned, Christie stood in front of some other boy who she barely even registered. This time she couldn't stop herself glancing back over at Alex, who had his eyes kept forward as he was supposed to on the girl before him. Dipping her head down, Christie tried to force it back, but then it broke through and she grinned.

Once she started, she couldn't stop, so everyone else must have thought her rather odd as she went smoothly through the rest of the dance grinning like an insane idiot. When she stood back before Alex, it only ended up widening since he gave a small half smile back.

She hadn't shouted at him and she hadn't begged him, he'd understood on his own. Perhaps not everything, but he'd apologised without her having to pull him kicking and screaming into it. The ridiculous, cheesy grin she'd acquired lasted for the rest of the dance, and she didn't even care that by the end of it her cheeks were aching and everyone kept giving her concerned looks.

* * *

As with every other Friday, Alex followed Christie back to her room, not speaking, but since that included not lecturing or insulting, she was more than happy with that. Excusing herself for a moment when they arrived, she slipped into the bathroom to change clothes and then practically sprinted back to launch himself onto the swivel chair, knocking it several centimetres on its wheels when he did so, turning in it to look at Alex –sat on the bed, as always- expectantly.

Whilst he was still on an odd high from having been given the unexpected apology, Alex seemed to be the one who was a mess, stammering and flushing and fiddling with his hands awkwardly in his lap, clearly unable to start saying what he wanted to. "So," He swallowed tightly, acting as if he were having trouble breathing, "you're a prostitute."

Well, he could say it out loud, that was a start. "I am," Christian confirmed calmly, careful not to sound proud of that fact, but not ashamed either. It would probably be easiest for them both if they treated this clinically.

"I'm guessing that's because of your…" Alex trailed off, his eyes focusing on his lap as he squirmed awkwardly, "financial issues."

"Yes." Christian felt rather bad, giving simple short answers when Alex was clearly having trouble speaking, so he tried to lighten the burden slightly. "I started when I was fourteen, as my mother became ill at that point and couldn't earn enough money, and my brother was only ten."

"Right."

Were Christian in a worse mood, he probably would have grilled Alex for being so nervous around the subject and said something rather overly dramatic about how it was something people should be perfectly able to talk about, but he took pity on the prince, since he'd already far surpassed his expectations. "When you're fourteen in the slums, getting employed in the public sector isn't exactly easy, and if employers know you're from the slums, it's pretty much impossible."

Frowning at this slightly, Alex braved raising his eyes to scrutinise him. "Surely, if you were-" Alex was about to be an idealistic optimist, so Christian felt it was his duty to save him from himself and cut him off.

"If you're from the slums, people will automatically make assumptions about you and judge you from that. That's why crime and prostitution are so high, because there's no other reliable source of income."

Chewing on his bottom lip, letting himself take that in, Alex was the total opposite of how he had been six days ago, now acting all forlorn and meek. "What brought about the change in attitude?" Christian inquired curiously, met by a sardonic smirk from Alex.

"Because you're you," He muttered a little darkly, "and I knew you'd have some righteous bullshit to back it up."

"It's not bullsh-" Christian began to snap back, since he was exposing his heart and soul here, but Alex shook his head and interrupted.

"I didn't mean it like that." He assured him, and this time Christian didn't argue.

"Is it why you cross-dress?" Alex asked suddenly, stepping up out of his lull of acting rather morose to seem genuinely interested. Titling his head to the side, Christian had to figure out how to word the answer to that one, considering how he was supposed to be claiming he identified as solely female for the sakes of staying at this school.

"It's probably why I started… I didn't feel uncomfortable with it, I've never really had a very solid gender identity and… it's easier to have a persona to use for work, and one for real life. I've never really fitted with either gender… I believe the technical term would be that I am the 'third gender'," He confessed, shrugging and grinning sheepishly at the end, "Since you already know everything else, I suppose that isn't the worst thing you could use to get me kicked out of here."

Lapsing back into the tense silence, the pair avoided looking at one another, both too vulnerable to allow it. "So…" Christian started in a mumble, drumming his fingers on the seat of his chair nervously, "does this mean we're friends again?"

Glancing back up at him, his eyebrows raised in surprise, Alex took an unusually long amount of time to answer that before smiling softly and nodding, "Yeah." So just like that, everything was fixed, although neither knew how things were now going to slip back into their old ways.

"Naturally you'll have to start tutoring me again," Christian clipped with a half-smirk, giving it a go.

"Bombing out without me already huh?" Alex snickered, grabbing his bag up off of the floor and emptying the contents back onto the bed. "Dumbass."


	17. Chapter 17 - Humility

**A/N: Time jump to towards the end of the year, because otherwise there'd have to be far too much banter and such. Drama Llamas are much more fun.**

Christie had been right; within time, people did get bored of her and the theory of her being the long lost princess became old news, so instead she had slipped back into her reputation of a fantastically notorious slut. Fortunately this time, she had Alex and Isabelle to keep her sane, and it also meant that Marian was less hell bent on murdering her.

Well that wasn't entirely true, she was less constantly irritated by people giving Christie perky attention, but she still hated her guts. Considering how Christie's grade was now one of the highest in the class -a steady A- her need for Alex as a tutor had become somewhat defunct. Since he was one of the few people who kept her sane, and he wasn't at all opposed to the idea however, they kept their daily afterschool meetings, where Alex would do homework and Christie would do hers for a couple of minutes, and then they'd just end up messing around. Their continued meetings however ended up in the reigniting of her fiery slut reputation and Marian's burning hatred for her.

Back at home in the slums, Christie had never really had friends as such. She'd had people back at school who she hung around with, but once they'd found out what she was doing to pay the rent, they quickly severed contact with her, since back then she'd attended a half decent school out in the middle of the city where the streets were nice and clean and everyone went about their business without being in constant fear of a shooting or another territory war by the gangs. She hadn't fit in so well there.

Stuck in the middle of the surreal calm of princess charm school, having friends was oddly… _nice_. It hadn't been easy to adjust to not having to defend every word you said and every action you made all the time to someone, but once they'd gotten past the fact that she was a transgendered hooker who came from a really shit part of the city, she and Alex actually got along, without needing to be at each other's throats twenty-four seven. Naturally Isabelle still didn't know any of the dirty details, but they got along well enough for personal details not to be an issue.

Income still wasn't steady, and their mother was showing no signs of recovery, but whilst real life was still a mess, princess charm school life was actually enjoyable, something Christie couldn't really confess to being used to. The idea of life being pleasant felt vastly unnatural but it was true, now that she understood them, classes were interesting and she discovered she was actually pretty good at learning, and by now she'd gotten used to all of the overwhelming grandeur and everyone's patronisation and could cope with it without riling up like a yappy little dog.

Amongst the fact that she was having a good time whilst her brother was still trying to make it through the day alive back in the slums and her mother was fighting for her life in a crappy hospital bed, her other confession seemed rather insignificant from a logical, selfless perspective. Considering how the end of the year was coming up soon and she was so close to becoming a lady royal however, she felt that since she was about to finally save the two people most important to her, she could confess to having a third.

She _liked _Alex. Worse still, she didn't just like him because everything was wonderfully perfect and he was some prince charming who would sweep her off her feet and because he'd been kind to her. No, she liked him for far less beautiful, eloquent reasons than that. She loved how she could shout at him and he would shout back, she looked forward to few things more than the awkward silence after they'd finished, and always ended up smiling when she recalled whatever line had been used to break it.

Having lived a pretty high-key life, being a prostitute and having been around a lot of violence, it seemed stupid how she found it exhilarating whenever Alex did stupid little things, like tug at her hair to tell her she'd destroyed it by bleaching it, or whenever he complimented her in the most roundabout way possible. It seemed stupid that she liked these things, messed up even, but it was fun having someone she could vent at and then laugh about it later, because they could both take it.

Alex was stronger than she'd thought he was, he stuck through her rants and all the shit he'd found out about her, which to him must have seemed like some of the highest crimes a person could commit. Since he'd had enough of a heart to let her explain, she felt like actually, screw the lovely generic fairy-tale, she had the best damn reason to love him, since he'd been one of the few people in the world not to leave her.

Furthermore, maybe, possibly, he could potentially like her back. Perhaps for once she wasn't too weird, too different or too angry for someone, after all, Alex knew her better than anyone else and still spent a voluntary hour or more with her every day. He knew she liked males… perhaps he was more than just okay with that fact…?

Shaking her head, trying to rip herself out of those thoughts, Christie hoisted the net of balls she was carrying up further over her shoulder. Apparently she'd been on rotation to help put away the gym equipment, as she'd been told by a hyperactive, bumbling Dora late that evening, so despite the fact that it was nearly nine and everyone was supposed to be in their rooms by now behaving like good little princesses, she was off taking the crap everyone else had left out back to the store room.

Given the keys to the school's doors by Miss Grover, their oddly and fantastically eccentric gym teacher -who was possibly Christie's favourite, based on the fact that she liked to shout out random poetry quotes at them during matches in a form of encouragement, and would often finish off every lesson by telling them to "be exceptional"- Christie stuck the one that had a blue foamy handle in the door lock and opened her way into the swim room.

Like everything else in this bizarre school, the swimming pool was huge, and better yet there were two of them, laid out side by side with a neat little pathway down the middle of them. Unlike the hallways outside that were illuminated until eleven for the teachers, the pool room was unlit, but the light from the windows running down it created a dappled pattern on the gently moving water. Perhaps she was just being a romantic, but Christie liked to appreciate these small things every now and then.

Spotting the store cupboard at the back, where everything for the indoor sports was kept, she slipped in through the door –although considering how she had a huge mass of balls attached to her, it was more a battle of tugging herself through the doorframe- and glanced around, the school transformed at night. The huge ascending bleachers at the opposite side of the room looked rather intimidating at night, and there was a very low, soft noise of water and drips echoing about the huge space.

Shaking off that oddly ominous feeling, Christie shifted the sack to make it more comfortable and then treading carefully, started down the path between the two swimming pools, watching the water and the light dancing off of it as it moved. Whilst she'd been rather intimidated by the school when she'd first arrived, she had to admit it was rather beautiful at night.

On that starry-eyed, romantic thought however, she found herself suddenly tipping over the side of the pool, her arms flailing uselessly as she tried to grab onto thin air before she hit the water, plummeting down under the surface, the icy temperature stabbing at her skin. Fucking hell it was cold when it wasn't heated.

Spluttering gracelessly when she resurfaced, completely at a loss as to what had happened –had she been so caught up in daydreaming that she'd been enough of an idiot to trip?- Christie hugged her body and shivered. She was right at the pool's edge so that when she blinked through the droplets lacing her eyelashes, she spotted a pair of uniform black shoes.

She then got a much better close up of those shoes when one drew back for a moment, and then as she stared at them, completely dazed from the cold and shock so she didn't think to duck, the black boot smashed into the bridge of her nose. Pain splitting through her face as she heard the crack ring out in the quiet of the night as her nose broke, she acted on instinct, her legs scrambling to find the pool wall so that she could push herself back to safety away from those shoes, clasping her nose and swearing colourfully.

Now a safe metre away from the pool's edge, she could see Marian looking down at her with her arms folded across her chest, frowning. She wasn't wearing her usual utterly cruel smirk or furious expressions; instead she simply looked rather displeased. "I simply don't understand how you've survived here Christie," She informed her in a detached, airy manner that really wasn't befitting, considering how she'd just kicked Christie in the face with some very hard-soled shoes.

"Marian, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Christie demanded tightly, her voice a little hoarse from the fact that the breath had been knocked out of her, twice. Floating around her were the volleyballs she'd been carting back, now bobbing up and down innocently as they spun around on the water's surface, making the whole experience feel far too surreal.

"Well, I'm the future queen of higher Arcadia, am I not?" Marian sighed heavily, squatting down by the pool's edge and plucking one of the balls from the water, toying with it with her delicate, perfectly manicured hands. "It's my duty to ensure that it's in the best care possible."

Straightening, Marian pinched her lips together and then eyed Christie's floating head in the water. She wasn't going to do something quite as stupid as throw the ball at her head, was she? "I think it's fairly obvious that the best care doesn't include you."

"Marian, you just shoved me into a pool and kicked me in the face, if you think that's the best care-" Christie began to counter, but then just as she had predicted, the ball was hurled at her face and, demonstrating all the talent she had shown in gym class, Marian's aim was perfect, slapping Christie cleanly on the cheek, leaving a sharp stinging sensation behind along with a complete lack of pride. She'd just been smashed in the face by a volleyball; Christie couldn't help feeling a little persecuted by now.

"You do not get to tell me what is best and what is not," Marian hissed quietly, now seething as her body was bent forward slightly, her chest heaving as she panted, despite having not worked all that hard, the throw having been clearly effortless. "You are messing with things and people that you do not understand, lottery girl. We are not all the spoilt brats you think we are- we have our own duties and hardships, ones that you will never be able to understand."

Oh dear. It appeared Marian was pouring out her heart and soul to her here. They'd been at each other's throats for the past year, and Christie had had to avoid several little beating sessions over the course of the year, so it wasn't as if she was the most willing person to understand Marian's problems, yet perhaps it did make her the one who would be able to understand. After all, she'd been at the hands of what it had all caused. So, instead of telling her to go fuck herself as she should have done, Christie kept quiet and listened.

Realising she'd let herself go a little bit there, Marian stood tall and dusted herself off with a rather restrained, haughty air. "Whereas you have freedom Christie, we have responsibilities," She sniffed, dropping the desperate tone, but Christie could still tell this was something she'd wanted to say for a long, long time, so she did not make fun of it. "If you're ever going to become a lady royal, someone who helps the guardians of our kingdom, you will be useless if you don't learn and respect our rules."

It was perhaps worrying how Christie could see where she was coming from, after all, if she hadn't fit in here, how on earth was she going to fit into royal life? Less provocative clothes would probably be a good start, but it wasn't just that which alienated everyone around her, it was her mannerisms, her sharp tongue, her attitude, and her whole view on the world differed far too dramatically from everyone else here. "You have to learn some humility," Marian warned her, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked at the drenched Christie, bringing her arms to fold across her chest tightly again and it looked as if she were hugging herself.

Biting down on her lower lip, Christie understood and for that she deeply regretted letting Marian speak. No, becoming a lady royal even after leaving this place wasn't going to be easy, no she wasn't going to be automatically accepted like everyone else here and no, she probably wasn't ready, but she needed it. For reasons that were far, far more important than her own sense of self-worth and respectability, she needed to become a lady royal and secure the means to keep her mother and Emile safe.

So instead of nodding and accepting, she knew she had to defend herself and so she stood up tall on the floor of the swimming pool and looked levelly back at Marian. "I have just as many responsibilities as you Marian, they might not be a kingdom or a palace, but they're still mine and they're still important," She informed her coldly, although that might have been because she was freezing and her voice had turned into a dead-pan monotone as she shivered violently now.

Snorting, Marian shook her head and finally regained her old smirk. "Please, you have absolutely no sense of self-respect, nobility or honour," She jeered, taking a step back as Christie hobbled forward, eager to get out of the freezing water, pausing to use it briefly to wash the blood from her nose off.

"I have every degree of those three things, I've just been raised to show it a different way from you," Christie clipped back, moving to the pull side and sneezing as she put her hands up on the side.

Taking three steps back, Marian watched as she crawled pathetically out of the pool, her limbs shaking as she did so. She hadn't been prepared for this; this stupid school was making her weak. "You look like a drowned rat and you're claiming you have honour? How can you-" Christie didn't cut her off, instead Marian seemed to choke on her own words, the breath in her throat sudden and short, the kind of noise someone would make if someone had kneed them in the stomach.

No one had violently assaulted Marian however; she was stood there, frozen, staring at Christie. Completely confused by this sudden seizure, Christie worried she was having a fit and so she stood, moving to go over to her and check that she wasn't about to start foaming at the mouth. When she took a step forward however, Marian stumbled back several and then tripped and fell back onto her rear, lying there in a collapsed heap, still staring, her eyes wide and her jaw clenched.

Noting how Marian wasn't staring at her face but seemed fixated on one point, Christie glanced down at herself, trying to follow her line of sight.

"You- you're-" Marian stuttered, her body physically trembling as she squeaked out her words.

Well shit.

It seemed water, skirts and having a penis didn't work so well together if you wanted to keep your sex a secret. Hurriedly Christie pulled the drenched skirt away from the skin it had clung to, revealing just a light outline of the offending member, but before she could make some lame excuse or even try to cover her tracks, Marian started screaming.


	18. Chapter 18 - Heartstrings

**A/N: Thank you to anyone still reading this odd piece of an anomaly. The emotional element of this chapter holds the newly released musical film "Les Mis" entirely responsible, since I was still crying from it whilst writing this. **

* * *

You didn't need to be a genius to know who was giving the best impression here. Sat with her back perfectly straight in her chair, her perfect hair lying behind her perfectly squared shoulders and her mouth in a perfect, polite, tight-lipped smile, Marian was the flawless image of a role model student. Next to her was Christie, her nose broken, bashed in and bloodied, her entire body drenched so her hair hung in clingy tendrils down the side of her face and she was slouching, too tired and broken to bother fitting her back to the shape of the insanely uncomfortable chairs.

Not long after Marian had started screaming, Miss Grover had come running down from the P.E office to investigate the source of the disturbance and had burst in on Marian lying crumpled on the ground in hysterics, with Christie looking like some sort of horror movie ghoul. Christie was pretty sure Miss Grover had then mumbled some Shakespeare quotes under her breath, but she'd quickly come running and hauled them both straight off to Miss Privet's office, where they both now sat on the straight-backed chairs that were unrivalled in providing discomfort.

Sat at her desk as always, Miss Privet had yet to speak, simply leant forward on her arms, looking between the two of them with a grim sort of exasperation. "Would either of you care to try and explain what on earth happened to mean that you're both out after hours, with one of you soaking wet and the other screaming her head off like a banshee?" Miss Privet requested in a dull drawl, clearly unimpressed with the sorry sight before her. Christie was busy trying to compose a half decent answer when naturally, Marian launched into her little speech.

"As a prefect," Marian began, dropping her little authority card into the mix straight off of the bat, "I thought I should check on why Christie was out of bed, so I followed her into the swim room." Christie really ought to get a word in, but had a bitter feeling that she'd be ignored anyway. "I found her in the pool messing about with school equipment and bleeding, I presumed she'd hit herself against the poolside, and then when I went to try and get her out she-" Marian sniffled theatrically at that point and Christie knew she was screwed, "she attacked me and then even worse," Marian was actually crying now, "she- I saw- Miss Privet," Marian's voice became very grave as she turned to a whisper, "she's a man."

Glancing over at Christie, Miss Privet raised a single eyebrow and Christie gave up on sitting up straight and slumped back in her seat, knowing she was doomed either way. She couldn't believe that Marian had actually won, that she was going to get away with assaulting her and getting her expelled all in the same little lie. To her credit, she was an impressive actor and liar. "Christie, is this true?" Miss Privet inquired tightly, her lips pursed into a thin line of disapproval.

Sighing heavily, Christie supposed giving the truth a try would at least mean she was trying to salvage this. How could she just let Marian win, when her whole family was at stake, what she'd worked all year for? Straightening again, she set her face into a determined grimace and spoke clearly, "No Miss, I-" She started, but Marian cut across her with a scornful accusation of how she was the devil in disguise and was trying to deceive them all, a whole bunch of crap that sounded mildly religious in its nature.

To Christie's surprise, Miss Privet ordered Marian to hold her tongue and asked Christie to continue, her face entirely unreadable. Trying not to get too hopeful, since she was well aware that Miss Privet did not like her in the slightest, Christie swallowed and then started again, "I was taking the gym equipment back, since I'd only just been told that I was on the rota for it, and then Marian pushed me into the pool." As was to be expected, Marian protested loudly at that comment, but once again Miss Privet called for silence.

"She also then kicked me in the nose, hence the reason it's broken, and then she gave me a little speech and let me climb out," Christie explained honestly, praying that by some bizarre turn of events the guilt might get Marian to break down and confess the truth, for Miss Privet was sure to side with the star student of the school, who was also one of the future high queens of the realm. Furthermore, there was one more thing she had to admit to. "She did then see… proof of my sex."

"It's disgusting Miss Privet," Marian spat in response, glowering over at Christie as if she were the scum of the earth, "he's been lying to everyone, after all this is _princess_ charm school." Her face suddenly paled at that comment and she looked on at Christie with a look of complete horror. "And what he's been doing… with Alex," She made a pathetic little yelping noise there, "you made him dance with a _man_."

Christie's brief kindling of some degree of understanding and sympathy for Marian had by now been violently stamped out, so now she felt no regret by glaring coldly back at the bitch sentencing her to her death. "As far as I'm aware Marian, Alex has had no problem with Christie's sex," Miss Privet replied coolly, making both of the girls stare at her in shock. "He's come to see me several times about it and has never once complained. He's had some… uncertainties, but nothing more."

Since when had Alex ever gone to see Miss Privet about this? He'd never once mentioned this to Christie and furthermore, if he had, then why hadn't she already been expelled for letting her secret slip? Worse still, she couldn't blame him since she'd told him the school board were in on it. Oh god, she was so beyond dead. Yet here Miss Privet was, seeming to be defending her. Massaging her temples because this was all getting a bit too much, Christie bit down on her bottom lip and glanced up at Miss Privet, trying to understand what this woman was doing.

"Miss Privet," Marian exclaimed, aghast at what she was hearing, "this _freak _does not belong in our school, or as the future of Arcadia's royalty."

"Marian," Miss Privet snapped sharply, rising from her chair as she rested her hands on the desk, looking down at the future high queen, "I understand your point, but did you really think you could get away with what you have been doing at this school?" Marian just gaped at the teacher, stuttering as she was put on the spot. "This is not the Middle Ages; we do have a security camera system and I have seen what happened, so whilst your lies were well told, they were pointless. Previously we have let your trespasses against this student slide, but assaulting a student is a very different matter to threatening them." The headmistress's voice trembled slightly as she spoke and Christie watched as Marian sunk back in her chair, paling and down casting her eyes, snivelling a little bit as she was silenced.

Muttering something under her breath, Miss Privet straightened her papers from where her hands had knocked them and then exhaled slowly. "What you did Marian is a crime, and charges could be pressed if Christie wishes them to be so," Miss Privet informed Marian gravely, glancing over at Christie, who was quite frankly going into shock, "however, she may find a deal preferable."

Looking over at the now silently weeping Marian, Christie would just love to put her out in a court where she'd no doubt get bad publicity and taught a decent lesson, but she'd understood what Miss Privet had meant by a "deal" and so had to put logic before senseless revenge. "If you agree to not speak a word of Christie's true sex to anyone else, charges will not be pressed. If Christie agrees," Miss Privet added, grimacing in acceptance when Christie nodded. "Well then," She sighed, running a hand through her perfect hair, "that's settled that."

Now crying rather gracelessly, Marian had brought her hands up to cup them around her mouth and she sobbed violently into them, visibly shaking. No one spoke for a moment, in which Marian just openly bawled into herself, bringing her knees up into her body as she wept. Eventually though, she chocked back her tears and rubbed her face on her sleeve, hugging herself with her hands. Curiously watching on with caution, Christie wished she could see inside the girl's head, for these tears were nothing to do with her, but she could not; all she could do was realise that not persecuting this girl had been the right decision.

"Marian, you can leave now," Miss Privet suggested gently, not meeting her student's bloodshot eyes as she sniffled and nodded limply, pulling herself free of the chair and hobbling out of the office, still the occasional hiccup of a sob bubbling up her throat. Seating herself back down, Miss Privet gave one of those truly world weary exhalations and then finally turned to Christie. "You must understand that Marian is under a lot of pressure," She reasoned quietly, her eyes briefly detracting towards the door that the girl had just left through before refocusing on Christie, "and her parents are rather strict when it comes down to their heir."

"She started talking to me, about how I wasn't worthy of caring for Arcadia and such," Christie confessed suddenly, not really knowing why she spoke, but she felt as though after that she had to.

"I'm sure you can understand why she believes that," Miss Privet replied dryly, looking over Christie before running her hand through her locks again. "You are not exactly traditional Christie," She laughed at herself then, a tired snort that seemed older than its user, "and often people prefer tradition, for it is known and so it is safe."

Fiddling with her hands in her lap, Christie hated how these people had managed to break her this way, by making her listen to their logic. Normally she'd just backchat them and ignore anything they said against her, but perhaps a year here had changed her more than even she'd realised. She found that she did actually care about doing this properly, about not fucking up the future of the country and spending the rest of her life being hated for being so different.

"I've already watched the footage, so I am well aware of what she said," Miss Privet informed her crisply, picking up the water glass on her table and sipping from it, looking away from the transgendered student before her. "I do not however believe that she spoke fairly." There it was again, the odd impression that for some bizarre reason, Miss Privet was now on her side.

Spotting Christie's confused expression, Miss Privet smirked into her glass and set it down again with a little chink. "Do not mistake my words Christian, I do not and doubt I ever will agree with what you are," She assured him drearily, sounding rather lethargic, "however I am not heartless enough to believe that it means you should be completely forsaken." This complete change in view, this sudden little epiphany made no sense whatsoever to Christie, who was frowning in confliction, wondering if it was some sort of trick, because she'd spent the whole year thinking Miss Privet was looking for the first excuse to trip her up.

Chuckling in a sullen manner very unlike a teacher, Miss Privet almost grinned and then relaxed back into her chair, drumming her nails on the wood of the table. "True, we had more than simply our differences at the beginning," No shit, "and in all fairness, I expect I would be much less obliging were it not for your friend, Alex." So that was how all this madness had come about.

"Miss, I do not mean to be rude, but why was Alex talking to you?" Christie questioned automatically, watching as Miss Privet, their refined and orderly headmistress, rolled her eyes like a sarcastic teenager.

"I wish I knew Christie, he seemed to think I was his fairy godmother. After he'd been partnered with you though, he came to see me immediately after school to talk to me about it," Miss Privet recounted, whilst Christie listened in a state of awe, completely unaware that any of this had been happening. "So I looked for the first decent opportunity to use to have you removed from the school." When Christie began to point out that she had been due to be expelled for having her secret discovered, Miss Privet shook her head again. "It was you that pointed out we'd have all the of the social justice system on our backs if we expelled you over such an issue, so instead your failing grades proved a better scapegoat."

Now Miss Privet took on a rather dark humour as she half grimaced, half smirked. "Yet Alex came back again not that much later, telling me how he was tutoring you. He has an incredible aptitude for speaking that boy." Christie found herself half-smiling at that description of him, but quickly wiped it from her face when she realised it wasn't exactly appropriate for this discussion. "Admittedly, he did not take to you either at first. And yet then, you passed the first term with a high C, and now you're one of our top students and on Alex's last visit to me, which was quite some time ago, he was singing your praises with no shame whatsoever."

It made no sense that Christie could feel her eyes stinging ever so slightly as she bowed her head. "I see no reason why these achievements should not be recognised." Christie wished she'd stop; she was getting to her far too easily here, for just moments ago she'd been sure her whole world was going to crumble and now this woman was telling her everything was so much more than alright. "I am not heartless Christie, I understand your home situation and I understand why getting the position of a lady royal is so important to you. What you have achieved; if that does not show responsibility I don't know what does."

Catching the moisture in her eyes with the side of her hand, Christie took a moment to compose herself and then straightened, looking the woman she'd thought was the enemy back in the eyes levelly. "I also think it's safe to say you have more than your fair share of self-respect and nobility," Miss Privet added with a wry smile, meeting Christie's eyes as if they were equals, "so with that in mind, I think you'll make an excellent lady royal."

With her voice stuck in her throat in the form of a heavy lump, Christie just nodded vigorously to try and show her thanks and Miss Privet's smile softened into something warmer before she averted her eyes so Christie could pull herself together. "Thank you," Christie mumbled, her voice breaking the second she started speaking so she sounded rather pathetic. Tonight had been far too emotional.

"Yes well, this doesn't mean you can start slacking," Miss Privet sniffed, regaining her old persona of strict authoritarianism as her lips thinned into a tight line, "I expect high results from you Miss Summers, for high grades open far more doors than what you'll get if you think the worst is over." Nodding, Christie rose from the chair and curtseyed liked they'd been taught in poise class.

"And more importantly," Miss Privet began again as Christie made her way to leave the office, glancing back over her shoulder to listen to this one final thing, "good luck."


	19. Chapter 19 - Euphoria

**A/N: There's a swearing festival down below, just a heads up. **

Exam period was never going to be fun; the heavy cramming of revision beforehand had been hell and what followed was sure to be a hell storm of nerves, panic and nausea. Yet a certain student of the school seemed determined to make it even worse for Christie Summers, the cross-dressing student who was not approved of.

Marian kept her word, not breathing a whisper of truth to anyone about Christie's sex, yet that did not mean she did not try other methods. Gym for example brought about the opportunity for her to exploit her more sensitive male areas by kneeing her there in rugby, or kicking footballs in that direction during games. Christie had to exercise a great deal of self-control to avoid shouting out in pain when various high-impact objects collided with areas not designed for this kind of abuse. Despite Marian's best efforts however, she still went undetected.

The hell of slogging over textbooks, relentlessly getting Alex to test her and then returning the favour -since they were both in equally panicked states- and having to sit through the nerve-wrecking exams eventually had to end however, and it was on a much awaited Friday that Christie had received her results. Almost immediately she'd bolted back to her room to change and wait for Alex so they could both freak out about their respective results.

Both equally competitive and both with similar grades in class, they'd been at each other's throats about beating one another in the exams so to say that Christie was tense was putting it lightly. Practically flying up the staircases to her room, she hurriedly unlocked it and then dashed in, searching around for her clothes.

Stripping as quickly as possible, she rid herself of the annoying bra and then pulled a pair of more masculine jeans up over her waist. "Christian!" A voice suddenly yelled as the door burst open and Alex flung himself in, scarlet-faced and panting heavily as he rested his hands on his knees, doubled over to catch his breath. One thing Christian did know he beat Alex in was fitness- he sucked at sports, but unfortunately they weren't graded on that.

Trying not to feel self-conscious about the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt, Christian straightened and grinned wickedly over at the panting prince charming school student. "You have your results?" He inquired, his smile broadening when Alex nodded wordlessly, his voice scratchy in his throat when he replied,

"You?" He gasped, leaning against the door frame. God, he must have really sprinted over here. Instead of replying, Christian simply leant over to the bed and plucked a sheet of folded pink paper from it, waving it in the air teasingly.

Both boys then straightened in unison and regarded each other with matching analytical stares, looking the other one over with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. "So," Alex said.

"So," Christian echoed, arching an eyebrow back at him before breaking out into a grin, "how do you care to go about this?"

Chewing the inside of his cheek as he thought that one over, Alex pulled a blue sheet of paper from his jacket and unfolded it, looking over its contents and smiling subtly. "As the only mature, responsible member of this court, I believe I should decide the order of subjects," Alex mused with a lilted smirk, in response to which Christian just snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Hurry up and stop screwing around _Mr Maturity_," Christian clipped back, nerves beginning to get the better of his stomach, which made a grumbling noise that only triggered an eyebrow raise from Alex.

"Alright then…" Alex hummed to himself, scanning over his results before glancing over at Christian. "Maths?"

"Ninety-eight percent," Christian replied, and then he grinned sadistically when Alex cussed under his breath in response to that. "And you?"

"Ninety-five."

Smiling smugly, Christian was every bit the terrible winner as he gave Alex a condescending, smug smirk and whistled in delighted amusement at his victory. "I win."

"Not yet. Chemistry?" Alex was targeting his weakness here, but considering how Christian had once not even been sure of how to balance equations, he was pretty proud with his result.

"Eighty," He answered with pride, but he could tell this time that he'd been beaten as Alex practically glowed as he smiled, yet then it was his weak spot and they still had three other subjects to fight over.

"Ninety-two," Alex informed him with a bastardly self-satisfied grin before they moved on.

With the next two, it played out as Christian had expected; Alex beat him hands down in physics, yet Christian kicked his arse in the biology department, so it was with a mixed sense of anticipation and fear that they approached the final frontier of English. "I'm not sure I can speak first," Alex confessed, fidgeting awkwardly as he fiddled with the sheet of paper, folding it into a paper aeroplane –terribly Christian might add, it would never fly-.

"Swap sheets?" Christian suggested, folding his neatly into a little triangle before holding it out in offering for Alex to take.

Exchanging result sheets, the two twiddled them in between their fingers, constantly looking over at the other for the sign to open them. Taking charge, Christian panted out a small laugh that was a little wobbly from the adrenaline and then began the count down, "Three, two, one." And on that note, they both carefully prized the paper open, looking over it for the deciding result.

"Fuck yeah," Christian exclaimed with a very douchebag-like fist pump and then he did a very immature victory dance.

"By two percent!" Alex reminded him, looking rather desolate with his loss.

Taking on an air of great false importance, Christian pretended to have a fanciful hat and lowered it in a sign of mocking respect towards Alex. "You, good sir, have been defeated."

"Asshole," Alex growled with a half grin, trying to toss the pink sheet of paper back at him but it just floated down to lie crumpled on the floor.

"One who kicked your ass," Christie reminded him gleefully, holding his arms out at his side as if to ask what Alex was going to do about his victory, challenging him tauntingly.

"Nerd," Alex insulted him a second time, this time his grin turning into something wilder.

Results weren't the only thing they'd been competing over. In fact, they were in amongst more battles than Christian could keep track of. As far as he could recall at that precise moment, they were competing to see who could throw crumpled pieces of scrap paper in the bin best, who could devise the most fantastic made-up word, who had the most insane teacher –naturally Miss Grover was currently winning- and –as what had to be the most immature of them all- they were locked in a heated tickle war. An expert at knowing the sensitive spots on people's bodies, Christian was currently winning by two surrenders on Alex's behalf.

Now however it seemed Alex was determined to rein his lead in a bit, pouncing on him and knocking him back onto the bed, assaulting him with his hands as he tried to tickle him into not being an asshole. Christian was not going to lie, the fact that Alex, someone who he really rather liked and who had apparently saved his arse with Miss Privet tickling him was enjoyable for more than the reasons it should have been. Not to mention the fact that he was shirtless and pinned to the bed by Alex, who had crawled over him, cackling theatrically as he drew out as many breathless laughs as possible from him.

Giggling like a young child as he squirmed, trying to bat Alex off and turn this around on him, Christian couldn't help grinning through the laughter. Despite the hell of revision and such, the past month had been surprisingly perfect and now he'd done it; he'd qualified to become a lady royal and he was going to save his family. He was in one of those over-excited, joyful states that meant were he less cautious of the world around him, he would happily kiss Alex.

"Okay, okay, I surrender," He panted huskily, not sure if he could breathe anymore with Alex knelt over him, keeping his arms pinned by his side. Urgh, this boy just didn't realise what he did to him. Or perhaps he did, was it normal for him to be quite like this with him if he had no interest in him at all? Honestly, Christian had no idea, he might be a wild-headed prostitute from the slums, but were he to be truthful, he had never actually been in a relationship.

It was these kinds of thoughts that meant the next sentence just slipped out of his mouth. "You're going with me to prom by the way," He informed Alex perfectly calmly, sounding rather wry in fact, although inside his heart was going double-time and he felt like an insecure six year old who was going in for a kiss with their very first crush.

"What? Why?" Alex asked, perhaps confused by the statement or by Christian's factual tone. Christian hoped it was the latter.

Just in case it wasn't however, he had to think of a decent excuse. "Well, if you don't take me, no one will, and I can hardly maintain my reputation as a slut if I go dateless to a dance now can I?" He pointed out with a comical grin which froze a little bit as Alex drew back and glanced down at him, frowning.

"That's a crappy reason," He remarked flatly, although the bemused smile he let loose made Christian sigh in relief internally, having been worried he'd ruined everything already.

"I don't care, I need you to take me," He snipped back coolly, grinning to let Alex know he wasn't trying to be a demanding bitch and that he was ever so lightly teasing, if he needed to be.

Sighing heavily, Alex pulled himself off from having his knees splayed either side of Christian's legs and sat next to him, sitting up straight and glancing off at the room around them. "I can't, I'm taking my fiancé," He answered simply, in a tone so matter of fact that Christian barely even heard his words, just writing it off as a usual, boring excuse that wouldn't mean anything. Then he did a double take as he felt an odd cracking sensation, like he'd been punched in the stomach.

"…Your what?" He inquired in a ghost of his usual voice, after a long silence of confusion as his brain tried to process that sentence.

"My fiancé," Alex repeated, dropping his eyes to his lap where he picked at his nails, avoiding Christian's eyes entirely now and he knew this was not a joke, "Marian."

If it was a trick, it was perhaps the cruellest one anyone had ever played on him, and he'd been victim to quite a few incidents of humanity's cruelty. "Oh my god," He whispered, his voice barely audible in his throat as he just stared at Alex's turned face, trying to understand. Marian? _Marian_?! Of all the people- of all the things Alex could have rejected him for, of all the things he'd never told him. "Oh my actual fucking god," Christian spoke once again, his voice louder now and shaking as he clenched his jaw, feeling as if he were about to be sick, his head spinning. "You're kidding me right?" He demanded coldly, his voice not that loud, but it seemed to fill the entire room and swelled, hanging there as it awaited an answer.

Alex made a facial expression which looked as if it had been going for a disregarding smirk but it came out more of a grimace and he picked at his nails harder now, breaking one and tearing off the end roughly. "Christian come on; stop being such a drama queen," Alex told him, finally looking over at him, showing with his innocent half smile that he had no idea of what exactly Christian was feeling at that moment.

Christian wanted to hit him. He really, deeply wanted to hit him and his stupid, stupid, stupid face. "Jesus Christ, what kind of a shitty plot twist is that?" He breathed aloud, wondering how this could actually be happening to him, how after all this bloody time of letting himself get _attached_ to Alex, this had existed all along. Or was this another little detail Alex had left out about the things he did behind his back?

"A what?" Alex snipped back, suddenly sounding a little defensive because of how Christian had not stopped acting like a "drama queen".

Sitting up now, Christian pulled himself off of the bed and went to find a shirt. "Shitty plot twist Alex, really fucking shit," he muttered furiously under his breath, yanking the shirt over his head and tugging it down, unsure if he was able to turn and face Alex after he'd finished, just standing there, trying to stop himself shaking as he bit down on his lip, drawing blood.

"Well I'm sorry my life isn't some fairy-tale novel, or whatever it is that you're going on about, but we've been engaged since we were children. That's just how things work." Oh, Alex was apologising to him was he? How fucking beautifully useless.

"This is such bullshit," Christian hissed quietly, screwing his eyes shut as he tried to control himself, tried not to lash out, tried to perhaps somehow salvage this.

"Christian, will you stop being such a-" Nope, if Alex was going to take that ridiculous, dense approach to all of this, there was no chance he was salvaging it, his temper wouldn't hold. He was going to claw this to pieces and scream at him until it all burnt down, so that perhaps he wouldn't have to feel like this again.

"When, when were you planning on fucking telling me?" He demanded furiously, his sudden shouting clearly taking Alex by surprise as he jumped, edging back further onto the bed away from him.

As he stood there seething, his breath coming quickly and shallowly in his chest so he became a little light-headed, almost hyperventilating, Alex just frowned, looking confused. Fucking bastard. "What? Why would I need to tell you?" He questioned, playing the role of the idiot with such flawless perfection Christian would have sarcastically applauded him if he wasn't so desperate to rip his head off.

Instead of lashing out at him however, he felt his body start shaking and his vision went a bit blurry. No, he was not letting Alex see him cry over this. People didn't get to see him cry. "Oh my god," He repeated once again, his voice cracking in his throat. Alex needed to leave, now. "Just- fuck- just get out. Now. You can just leave." He ordered, quivering as he held himself back from sobbing or screaming.

Alex didn't listen though; he stood and started to approach him so Christian had to duck his head so he wouldn't see his face, able to feel tears leaking out now. "Christian, why are you-"  
"**GET FUCKING OUT**!" Christian screeched at him, wishing desperately he could somehow do this right, somehow act with perfect cold calm and be the unfeeling statue he wanted to be, but was unable to do so as his body broke down inside of him.

Alex made one more attempt to go to him, but Christian took two quick steps back and then watched, hunched over in a futile attempt to hide his breakdown as Alex turned and walked off, closing the door behind him with a hollow click. Christian almost made to run after him, going to the door and placing his hand over the handle before realising there was nothing he could say.

Surely he must have noticed, or did he just think Christian was that flirtatious with everyone? It was more than just flirting though. Bashing his forehead against the door, Christian started crying properly now, the action jerky and undignified, nothing he could be unashamed of. He hated few things more than crying, but couldn't stop it now as he body leant against the door and he dropped down to his knees, hiding in a squat as he sobbed. Honestly, despite everything else he'd been through, he'd never been heartbroken before.


	20. Chapter 20 - Preparations

Jean Patel was a client and more importantly, he was a regular. Now that she had Barbie Princess Charm School to deal with, Christie didn't have that many regulars any more; only four had stayed with her after the timetable change. Despite the lacking numbers however, Christie was confident that Jean would be perfect.

They'd first met in her mother's hospital. A nurse there, Jean was a grumpy, gruff and irritable night shift employee, but Christie had learnt over time consisting of him tending to her mother that he did in fact had a squishy, soft and caring inside, underneath his tough exterior. When they'd started fucking, he'd never once not paid her, or been too rough. True, he could still be as moody as they came, but he was enough of a decent person for what she needed.

As a regular, they had a certain relationship. It wasn't trust or loyalty exactly, more a mutual understanding of a partnership that they both respected. Of course, it wasn't just the fact that he was the most trustworthy of her clients that meant Christie had chosen him, he also looked the part.

Over six feet tall, built like a god and with scraggily blonde dreadlocks, he had a certain look to him that was both impressive and intimidating. Furthermore, he was thirty-two years old, not very clean shaven and prone to looking aggressive and irritable. In Christie's mind, this was exactly the kind of person a "slut" would date.

Lying in the med-bay, up on the examination chair with Christie sat over his lap, leant upon his chest, Jean was panting slightly. Nine out of ten times they did it somewhere in the hospital, it was just another client preference so Christie didn't mind. Jean was also one of the few clients who preferred fucking her as Christie rather than as Christian, so the kinky shit he wanted to do was much easier to handle and wash away.

"Jean," Christie began, kissing his neck, which was now an action of choice as she'd done what she'd been paid to do, "can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure," Jean sighed, laid in the chair with his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

"Will you take me to my prom?" She requested quietly, making sure to draw back a little bit after asking in case it triggered some unwanted reaction. True, she felt safer with Jean than most people, but she was still a hooker and he was still a client; things could go wrong quickly.

Fortunately, Jean just chuckled and opened one eye, squinting at her to watch her expression. "Why on earth do you want me to do that?" He inquired slowly, his voice content and lazy so Christie knew she'd chosen the right time to ask. He was like a cat sunning itself after having had sex.

"I need someone to take me, and I think you'd be perfect," Christie informed him with a winning smile that made him laugh again.

"Don't tell me you've fallen in love with me," Jean teased quietly, slipping a hand free from under the arm rest and flicking Christie on the nose.

Glowering darkly at him, Christie rolled her eyes. "Nothing like that," She promised him, deciding perhaps honesty would work here, "I have this fantastically infamous reputation as a slut," She explained dryly, smiling a little when Jean raised an eyebrow.

"So you thought taking a thirty year old man would do the trick?" He guessed, smirking when she nodded. "Fair enough."

"So, will you take me?" Christie asked hopefully, weakening slightly when he frowned at her.

"Why would I want to take you?" He pointed out flatly, sitting up now as he shook off his lazy cat persona and then pushed her off of his lap. "You're a hooker Christie; I don't owe it to you."

"Please, just this once?" Christie begged as he went around and picked up his baby blue scrubs, slipping back into them.

"Christie, you're being a child," Jean muttered under his breath, pulling his arms through their sleeves before wandering over to the mirror to check his appearance.

"I'll pay you," Christie offered on a desperate whim. There was no one else she felt confident asking and she needed this, just to stick it right down Alex's throat.

"You don't have any money Christie, you couldn't even pay yourself," Jean mocked her gracelessly as he slicked his hair back to remove all signs of dishevelment.

Chewing her bottom lip as she tried to think of some way to sway this in her favour, Christie glanced over at Jean and tried to work out what it was that he wanted that she could offer. "I'll do it for free afterwards?" She proposed, and this time Jean paused and looked round at her, examining her in her underwear before shrugging.

"Depends how long it is."

"It's only a few hours, and then we can go wherever you want," Christie assured him, trying to coax him into it with an optimistic tone that sounded a little less pathetic than she had before.

Fully dressed now, Jean turned away from the mirror and headed over to the door, "Get me an invite then and I'll come, if I can get out of my shift," Jean agreed, not looking at her as he spoke before leaving the medical bay, vanishing without so much as a goodbye. Thankfully he'd paid upfront beforehand, so she was going to be able to keep Emile housed until that ever nearing first pay check as a lady royal.

She just severely hoped that what she was doing wasn't as stupid as it sounded. Taking a client out into her real life was perhaps one of the biggest no-no's that you could do as far as Christie was concerned, but then she needed to do something to stop feeling quite so crushed. If that meant flaunting everything that pissed off Alex, so be it.

* * *

For all the stereotypes of girls taking ages to get ready and flapping about like over-excited animals, boys were honestly no better. Alex was stuck amongst everyone else in the dorm block running about, grinning and shouting at one another, all in different stages of getting ready. Every boy, no matter how shy or how bold was getting rather worked up by this, whether they hid it well or not.

Personally, Alex felt rather nauseated. He had to deal with Marian for a whole evening, whilst also being in the same room as Christie, an event that had not transpired since the afternoon of results day, when he'd witnessed the true extent of Christie's temper. To say he was panicking about seeing her again was putting it lightly.

Trying to distract himself, he went off to find the others to see how they were coping with the mayhem of preparing for the evening. Whilst his room was on the top floor, shared with Jem, Logan and Ash both bunked together on the floor below, so whilst trying to stop his head from spinning as he moved amongst the heat and frenzy of chaos, he went off to find them.

Knocking on the door, he was given permission to open it and he found them both fully dressed, sitting on Logan's bed together side by side. Logan it seemed had managed to find the most basic, standard black tuxedo that existed; true, it was crafted from the finest material money could buy, but it was so understated it was almost impressive, and very Logan. Beside him Ash was his opposite, wearing a soft, white tux that was a little too big for his body. Both looked over at him with ever so slightly cautious gazes when he entered.

Met with silence, Alex was rather concerned about what exactly was wrong. "Hi guys," He tried out as a greeting, giving them a slightly nervous grin and Ash gave his usual sweet, perky smile back in response and Logan just nodded. Conversation, what Alex needed to do was make conversation in order to prevent himself from having a mental breakdown from worrying so much. "Who are you two taking then?" He inquired lightly, a cheerful, casual smile on his lips as he attempted to cover up the fact that he was a mess.

Sharing a sideways glance at one another, it took the other two a while to answer. Moving first however, Logan gently took Ash's hand in his, lacing their fingers together, and then met Alex's eyes, his expression as dead-pan as always. "We're going together," He informed him; his usually perfectly flat voice contained just the very slightest of quivers as he spoke. Stunned, Alex just stared at them.

"Oh god, you should see your face," A new voice suddenly teased from Alex's right-hand side as someone gripped his shoulder.

"It's hilarious," Another added from his left as an arm was slung around the back of his neck, dangling there so casually that it was obvious to whom it belonged, but Alex was too busy processing this new snippet of information to bother greeting the two clowns.

"Especially since it was so obvious," Jem elaborated in a bemused drawl on his right, making Caine on his left chuckle.

"And you're the only one who never seemed to notice." Caine and Jem were both evil, that was the only conclusion Alex could reach as they dragged him in by either arm into the room and then went to sit together side by side on the bed opposite Logan and Ash's.

That was when Alex could finally see their appearance, and this time he really stared, goggling at them with his mouth ever so slightly agape. The pair were dressed in matching suits with garish bow ties and coloured jackets, Jem's a rich scarlet in colour whilst Caine's was marine blue, both with ever so slightly spangled trimmings. Of course, the most noticeable thing was Jem's hair.

"Jem, why are you ginger?" Alex asked woodenly, stunted by the sudden change that had occurred around him in the space of a minute.

When Jem grinned his wickedly impish grin, Alex knew the answer was going to involve the words "devious plan". "Well Alex," Jem began in his best theatrically polite voice, "Caine and I have had an ingenious, devious plan." At least the lunatic was consistently predictable.

"In order to pick up the drop-dead gorgeous twins Katherine and Elaine at this evenings ball," Caine continued, glancing over at Jem and poking him insistently when Jem failed to finish his sentence for him.

"We too shall pretend to be twins," Jem hurriedly rushed to finish, and with an air of practice, the two boys raised their eyebrows in unison. "Ingenious, non?"

"You know that you two look nothing alike, right?" Alex pointed out slowly although Jem's smile didn't falter once.

"That is true, but they say that acting is all about confidence," Jem quoted proudly, an arm around the shoulder of his fake twin, "and we have plenty of it."

Alex really didn't know what to do with that, so instead he just slumped back against the wall and looked between the two pairs, Jem and Caine now both trying to outdo each other at pulling comically villainous expressions whilst Ash and Logan were having one of their silent telepathic communication conversations, where they would lock eyes and not look away from one another for hours on end. Now that Alex thought about, perhaps it had been a little bit obvious.

Clearing his throat, Jem looked set to make another one of his infamous speeches and so Alex shook himself out from watching Ash and Logan be all lovey dovey in their odd way and glanced over at him. "Well, we are all very proud that you two have come out of your badly disguised rainbow closet," He beamed boldly, before shrugging casually. "I myself go either way."

It appeared this little gathering had just turned into a coming out party, although honestly the thing that surprised Alex most about this new confession was the manner in which it had been done; he would have thought Jem's style would be more bursting out of an actual closet to prove how witty he was, probably in song, rather than just calmly dropping it into conversation.

Glancing over at Caine, Jem gave him one of his 'I-see-all' narrowed gazes, making Caine just raise his hands in surrender. "Sorry you lot, I like boobs."

"And so eloquent too," Jem sighed in mock exasperation, earning himself another laugh from Caine, who seemed remarkably at ease for someone who'd just had three of their best friends clamber out of the closet.

With an unnerving amount of synchronisation, all four of the other boys turned and looked over at Alex. "Alex, is there anything you'd like to tell us?" Jem inquired delicately, pursing his lips as he bit back a smile.

"Well of course, Alex has Christian," Caine snickered from beside him before his face froze and he was elbowed in the ribs hard by Jem who cursed him to the deepest depths of hell. "I mean Christie," Caine chocked in correction as he grumbled about the injury he'd sustained.

Well, it wasn't as if they were subtle, or as if they had hidden it in the slightest. "What?" Alex demanded, giving Caine his best glower to try and scare the answer out of him, but Jem safely secured a hand over his mouth as he made a little "meep" noise. Straightening, Alex leant away from the wall and was about to probably say or do something stupid when Jem held up his other hand.

"Now Alex, what kind of friends would we be if, upon the occasion of you spending more time with an incredibly attractive female than with us, we did not investigate the girl in question?" Jem begged of him with a wry smile, releasing Caine now who shot him daggers with his eyes.

"Of course, investigation then revealed the girl in question to be a boy in question." Logan supplemented coolly, perfectly at ease to confessing that he had all be a part of the operation.

"But we wanted to wait for you to tell us yourself," Ash added helpfully, now ever so slightly leant into Logan's shoulder, but Alex had other things to focus on.

"Until Caine messed up," Jem growled darkly, giving his fake twin a moody, accusing glare.

Awkward silence then filled the room as Alex had no idea what to say and it seemed that even Jem had exhausted his supply of endless witty comments. Eventually though, Alex remembered what they'd said earlier and the presumptions they'd made and knew exactly what to say. "I'm not going with Christie," He informed them factually, keeping his tone perfectly neutral, "I'm going with Marian."

"What?" Jem exclaimed incredulously, giving him another one of those demanding looks of bewilderment. "Exactly why not?"

"Because Marian is my _fiancé_ Jeremiah," Alex reminded him tightly, "and I'm not gay." Alex didn't appreciate the snort Jem made after he'd said that.

"I share a room with you Alex," Jem smirked darkly, his eyes too narrow to be friendly, "I think I know what goes on inside that thick skull of yours."

When Alex didn't understand what he meant, just frowning at him in confusion, he sighed dramatically and gave him a rather lewd grin, "You talk in your sleep, _a lot_," He informed him with too much grim seriousness in his voice to be joking.

Considering how he'd come here for some relief from his own brain persecuting him, this group assault on him was all a bit too much for him to handle, so he could feel himself snapping. "I am not fucking gay Jem," He snarled sharply, fed up of people getting at him when he was just trying to live normally, without all of this added bullshit. When Jem just pulled a face back at him however, he lost it a bit. "Fuck off," he spat angrily at the fake redhead and then, avoiding the eyes of the others, stormed out. Nothing it seemed was going right for him recently.


	21. Chapter 21 - Youth

**A/N: Apologies for Hiatus, I was being incredibly busy and far too fantastically lazy, so motivation has been down at rock bottom. This is also a rather under-whelming restarting chapter... I hope you missed Alex being a whiny little bitch, because this chapter has it in large, plentiful doses. And thank you again to everyone who has reviewed this- main source of motivation to write this so it's thanks to you I kicked myself into finishing this cesspool of wtf :) **

The mark of true friendship is the ability to brush over all that is awkward, uncomfortable and painful and -for the sakes of an evening of enjoyment and entertainment- to pretend that nothing had happened and that everything is alright. The ease with which the other four managed it was not surprising, considering how it consisted of both Jem and Caine, who were the sort that could slip into any social circle and make everything run smoothly, even when they were dressed in spangled outfits.

The dance was being held over in Princess Charm School, for they had the largest dance hall and the best music equipment, so Alex had agreed to be the one picking Marian up. Once they'd left the safety of the boys' school ground however, every step closer to the adjacent institute helped replenish the fluttering butterflies of nerves in Alex's stomach. In his head he kept picturing ever fantastically awkward situation in which he could run into Christie, alone and undefended, about to be torn at again for something he was only beginning to piece together, and would honestly rather not think about, especially not tonight.

Once they entered the girl's dormitory, they were met by a mass of girls running about everywhere, determined to be perfect for their final evening as a princess in training, dancing with their chosen prince. Most of the males who had come with them pretended to act shocked by the chaos, or so smirk and laugh, completely ignoring the fact that the boys' dorms had been no better. Still, amongst the haze of females diving this way and that, Alex became convinced that he would, inevitably, end up encountering Christie.

Not once however did he bump into her, nor did he even spot her out of the corner of his eye. Briefly he worried she'd locked herself in her room and was thus refusing to come out, but the mix of relief at that thought and the accompanying guilt meant he hurriedly dispelled it, trying to focus on finding Marian and escaping as soon as possible.

As the future high queen of Arcadia, she'd been taught how to dress, her body now adorned with a beautiful aqua gown that was both elegant and stylish, her arms and neck jewelled with various fineries, which were added to when Alex tied the requested white rose corsage around her wrist. When they finally found each other, in a side corridor with fewer people running here and there, they'd smiled tightly and without a word he'd taken her hand and led her out.

Alex had never exactly been close to Marian, she was his arranged fiancée by formality but they'd spent little time together, especially since school time had begun. They would dance and talk at social events and would be invited to dinner at one another's palaces, but save for these singular occasions, they did not spend much time in one another's company.

"Your bow tie is off centre," Marian remarked calmly once they'd escaped outside to the cool of the night air, several other couples spilling out after them and making their way over to the dance hall, whilst they stopped and stood so that Alex could tie the corsage and Marian could straighten his bow tie.

"Thanks."

Alex was very much aware that Marian was scrutinising him rather carefully, so he forced himself to smile and then linked their arms so he could guide her with the rest of the population on over to the dance hall, politely remarking on the elaborate decorations of lighting and garden accessories that had been installed for the evening in an attempt to make small talk. Marian however -despite usually being very confident in herself- was being uncharacteristically withdrawn, answering in often no more than one or two words.

The other four males re-joined him once he was in the dance hall. Marian quickly excused herself to go and greet her friends to remark on their attire and to fetch drinks, so Alex sat himself beside Logan, since Jem and Caine had mysteriously disappeared. "Where are-" He began, but Logan anticipated the question with a dry smirk and cut him off.

"Spiking the punch, of course," He answered with a kind of restrained exasperation, being unusually expressive for Logan.

"No one told them then that Nick and Joel have already added vodka to the mix?" Logan's smirk widened at that and he slid a side-ways glance at Alex before finally replying.

"I expect that'll be what they'll claim."

Smiling to himself and peering through the hordes of dancing couples in an attempt to spot the tricksters in action, Alex had failed to do the appropriate risk assessment before carrying out this endeavour and inevitably encountered the one situation he'd been trying to avoid that evening. "I guess Christie found a date anyway," Ash piped up from beside Logan, having successfully nestled himself close to his side so that Logan somehow managed to look protective of him without doing a thing, "although, is he from school?"

Christie had indeed apparently managed to find a date; a date who'd quite possibly been born around the dawn of the dinosaurs. He was at least a foot taller than anyone else in the room, decked out in a leather motorcycle jacket and stone-washed jeans, looking entirely out of place amongst the tuxedos and suits. Not that Christie could claim to be any more decent. Most girls in the room seemed to think themselves flirtatious when they lifted their skirt's to show their ankles; Alex knew that if Christie lifted her skirts any higher than they already hung she'd have to start calling herself Christian.

"Red suits her," Logan noted in a passive kind of conversational manner, although Alex still bristled defensively, not appreciating the fact that they were purposefully drawing attention to her.

"The colour of danger, blood and violent death. I quite agree," Alex retorted sourly, crossing his arms over his chest as he sunk back further into the chair, glowering mutinously at the pair who were more grinding their groins together rather than actually dancing.

"Alex, shall we dance?" Marian suddenly proposed, appearing to his left, absent of the drinks she'd claimed to be going to fetch. Shaking off his grumpy sulk, Alex stood and led her over to the area that had been assigned for dance, holding her far more appropriately than the hooker and the biker were touching one another. He shivered just watching them, wondering how they could expect to get away with such behaviour.

"Alex," Marian hissed tightly when he'd failed to respond to her movements, too busy stood glowering at the other two to remember to move. As he jerked back into focus, the song changed to a softer, more classical one and the couples dancing, including Christie and her trampy boyfriend, assumed the waltz position, albeit with the partners far closer together so it more resembled slow dancing. Naturally Christie and the tramp were standing the closest, their hands positioned far too close to inappropriate areas.

Going into automatic, Alex danced perfectly well with his partner, but they both remained quiet to begin with. He tried to distract himself by observing the room, which was bathed in dim orange lighting, its atmosphere caught somewhere between a formal ball and a night club. The music too was some strange hybrid of the modern dance songs of that day and the symphonies of the old tradition. The resulting effect was that no one was quite sure what to do, all awkwardly dancing in an attempt to find the ground they were expected to stand on. Of course, the only couple who weren't awkward at all in their movements were Christie and the tramp, who both seemed far too confident in their actions. Several people gave them rather curious looks, unsure of whether they should follow this arrogantly confident pair or whether they should ostracise them. It appeared most went with simply ignoring them.

"Christie has once again proved her insolence," Marian remarked off-handedly, as if she were commenting simply on the weather.

"The man isn't from school," Alex replied, not wanting to openly agree with her for fear of appearing too attentive of the subject matter, since Marian had made it clear that she did not approve of any contact with or attention he paid to Christie.

"He's not from any school, just look at him. His face is a mess of stubble," she criticised sharply, biting her words somewhat as they twirled amongst the other couples. She was not incorrect however, compared to every other gelled up gentleman in the room, this man simply looked wild.

Alex noticed however, as they continued to dance, that the females in the room didn't seem to hold the same antipathy he felt towards the "_gentleman_" Christie had invited as a partner. They watched him with a kind of nervous, giggly intensity that Alex could more than well identify as a fleeting crush. Their titillated behaviour was no doubt exactly what Christie was after by inviting someone like _him_.

Alex would have liked to think it got easier to ignore them. The evening progressed into signs of the overly alcoholic punch resulting in a lot of daring behaviour and dancing from a lot of people, along with some vomiting. The music built as the evening went on and people began to mimic the kind of dance Christie had demonstrated, forgetting themselves amongst the haze and buzz of their last night as true teenagers. The monitoring adults made mild attempts to calm things down, but they were quickly overpowered by the charge of hormones and enthusiasm demonstrated by the gathered students.

By the time Alex had given in and was plastered up against Marian so they moved as one, Christie had disappeared, that or he'd stopped noticing her, despite his habitual glancing around to see what depravity she was up to now. Marian kissed him a lot, but he didn't really hold onto it that much. There was no fairy-tale gold shimmer to it, no rose tint or warm fuzz. It wasn't unpleasant either though. The only real way to describe it was to say it was an experience, an odd-tasting but somewhat consuming and distracting experience.

* * *

"Jesus, these rich kids are fucking insane," Jean drawled, leant back against a tree whilst he smoked, enjoying the break of the cool night air. "What kind of dancing even was that?"

"I believe they would refer to it as traditional," Christie smirked, half enjoying having someone else from the slums to gossip about the strangeness of this place with, half feeling guilty since by now it had become her second home and all its quirks and bizarre natures had grown on her.

"Pretentious rich kid bullshit," Jean snorted, taking another drag from the cigarette.

Christie was stood before him, her legs pulled tight together and she was hugging herself to try and keep out the chill of the cold of the night, the short, red and skin-tight dress she wore not exactly warm. She was almost grateful when Jean caught her arm and pulled her close into him, his warm a welcoming sensation so that she happily cuddled close, despite the smell of smoke on his breath. His hand slipped from her arm to her waist and he started kissing her neck, dropping the cigarette onto the grass and extinguishing it with the sole of his boot.

"I want to do it now."

"Not here," Christie pleaded quietly, allowing him to run his hands along her thighs but not wanting her school to witness her with a client out here actually on school grounds. That would be a step to far.

"I've kept my side of the fucking bargain, I've put up with brats and their weird looks and I've even smiled nicely to your teachers. I want it against this tree, here."

"Jean, this is my _school_," Christie reminded him in a whining tone whilst he started trying to pull her leg up around his body to try and get some control over her.

He wasn't exactly malicious in the way he went about breaking down her defences, but he had a playful kind of forcefulness about him that put Christie on edge. "No one's about Christie," He mused quietly, kissing her lips now before flipping them over so he had her pinned against the tree. "Come on, just one go."

She tried once more to work him off of her, but knew that if she caused a commotion the results could be far more destructive than a quick seven minute fuck against a tree. She could tell Jean knew this too, for he didn't seem to expect much resistance as he worked her dress up over her hips before turning her around so she was exposed to him. Biting down on her lower lip, having known this sort of thing would be the price of such a hasty bargain, Christie closed her eyes and tried to ride it out without linking it to the school she'd come to call home.

It finished, as it always did, eventually, and she tugged down her dress and tried to tidy herself. The three large hickeys on her neck and the two on her right shoulder didn't really help. Jean stepped back and zipped himself up, seemingly satisfied with her delivered "goods". Whilst she tried to calm herself down however, her calming state of mind was interrupted.

"Christie?" A somewhat quavering voice stuttered, and the both of them froze, sharing a look which clearly said "oh shit".

Stepping out from behind Jean, Christie spotted Isabelle, stood not three metres away from them, having been walking along the embankment of the grounds, dressed in her usual slightly alternative style with a black lacy dress dropping down to her knees, her hair coiled up around her head. More notably, she was staring at the pair. Christie didn't know how much she'd seen, or how much she'd inferred, but without a backwards glance to Jean she rushed over to her, before awkwardly halting before her.

"Izzy…" She began with great discomfort, whilst behind her Jean dawdled, unsure as to whether or not he should stay.

Isabelle however made the first move, her body unlocking whilst she laughed the noise shaky and nervous and she waved Christie off. "It's fine, whatever you do is your business, I shouldn't have- I'm sorry," she hurriedly apologised, moving to turn and flee but Christie caught her wrists.

"Isabelle, I'm so sorry," Christie whispered before deciding to throw caution to the wind and go for a hug, hoping she wouldn't be thrown of for being thought of as disgusting or dirty.

Isabelle didn't shove her off, but she didn't hug her back earlier. "Isabelle, this is Jean," Christie introduced her formally once she'd drawn back, gesturing for Jean to come forward who reluctantly trudged over to them, looking his usual irritable self, although he was at least sticking around, which was rather noble of him. Isabelle gave him an awkward half-smile before looking back to Christie, her usual deadpan demeanour completely dismissed in the midst of the shock.

Sighing, Christie wondered what she should do about all this. Isabelle had seen more than she should have done, she could tell from the strange way she kept twitching, and it wasn't as if they'd been discreet about it. "Isabelle," Christie exhaled, massaging her temple before deciding honesty might not cast her as the bad guy here, "there's something I probably ought to tell you."

One extraordinarily stammered and uncomfortable explanation of her true gender and situation (minus the employment as a hooker) later, Isabelle was staring unblinkingly at her. "You're a male?" She repeated finally, her eyes immediately dropping gracefully to goggle at Christie's crotch. Jean was looking highly agitated, rocking from one foot to another, but for making her do it at school when she'd asked him not to, he could just stick it.

"That I am, in sex at least," Christie confirmed with an odd formality, as if treating the issue clinically would make it less strange to deal with.

Nodding slowly to herself, Isabelle didn't blink for a very long time, so much so that her eyes started watering and she had to hastily wipe them in order to avoid looking odd. "I..." She began, trailing off as she searched for words before she suddenly grabbed Christie and took her turn to hug her. "Always knew there was something weird about you," She chuckled huskily, her voice almost managing to slip back into its usual monotonous sarcasm, but not quite working whilst she giggled nervously.

"You're not going to hound me to the authorities then? I mean obviously Miss Privet knows but… preferably no one else should…" Christie inquired hesitantly, although rather pleased with this reaction, it being the best she'd gotten to date.

"Go to the pigs? Nah." It always amused Christie how Isabelle adopted this really strange, clichéd slang whenever she talked to her. It wasn't exactly offensive, just secretly really hilarious so she had to force herself not to splutter during this heartfelt moment.

"Thanks," She mumbled affectionately as she hugged the other girl back, a sense of friendship that she'd never really had before beginning to form. It was nice.

"I promised Sebastian I'd be back in five minutes so I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow at school for the adjustment lessons," She called, pulling back and then throwing a wave over her shoulder as she half stumbled, half ran off. Christie was pretty sure she was still going into shock; after all it was quite a lot to digest when you walk in on your best friend getting fucked against a tree by a much older man, and to see things that clearly indicate Christie was not female in sex. Isabelle had however, been the nicest person about the whole issue, so for a brief moment Christie revelled in the warmth of acceptance, which vanished rather quickly once Jean cleared his throat.

"I'm going back; do you want a ride?" He offered casually, either forgetting that she lived here or under the impression that she went back to the slums often. She was about to correct him when she realised she could use the money, and without him there to piss people off, what was really the point of going back to the dance hall?

"Sure," She shrugged, sighing slightly as she stretched herself out, deciding her outfit would pass on the streets just fine. If she played this evening right, she ought to be set until she graduated.

"Sweet," Jean muttered, waiting for her to be ready for a moment before walking off with his hands shoved in his pockets, whistling quietly to himself. She looked after him for a moment, glancing back over at the dance hall, where everyone else was busy celebrating their departure from adolescence. She nodded once before turning and following on after Jean, keeping a small distance behind him so as to avoid conversation.


	22. Chapter 22 - Growing Up

**A/N: Approaching the end of this madness had gone and made me sentimental, so apologies for how cushy this chapter gets at times. It's also rather long, because I didn't want the BPCS phase to end, so excuse me for getting all emotional over this chapter.**

The morning dawned bright and early and since he'd forgotten to draw the curtains across the windows, too worn out from the hazy blur that had been re-orientation lessons, Christian was woken up by the sunlight that streamed right on through. Wincing slightly in the glare of the light, he forced himself to open his eyes, but did not get up. He had no decent reason to be up this early; they had no classes today, for it was now graduation day, which was hosted in the afternoon. If he was sensible, he'd sleep in.

It also meant that he only had one last day to say goodbye. Propping himself up onto his elbows, Christian squinted around his room, a rather odd sense of sentimentality washing over him. He'd spent the past year either goggling in awe at this place or shrinking away in a mix of fear and disgust. He'd slept here most nights for the previous year though, he'd chucked clothes everywhere and made the room a complete tip and then enjoyed hurriedly tidying it before it was seen. He'd found the best hiding places for private crap and he'd finally worked out how to use each and every one of the multitude of the bath functions. Admittedly, whilst he prided himself on being able to remain detached from such things, he'd gotten rather accustomed to being housed amongst cushions and blissful comfort.

Not that his next life would be any less obscenely lavish, providing he was invited to be someone's lady royal, the invitations for which would begin to be extended today. Grumbling groggily to himself, he forced himself to roll on out of bed and pull himself up into his female get-up. Today was non-uniform, although for the graduation ceremony they had each been provided with elegant ball gowns so that they looked the part. Christie could handle mini-skirts and she'd just about got the hang of bras, but the odd, intricate and lacy baby pink thing she'd received baffled her. She was sorely tempted to turn up in a T-shirt and jeans.

Whilst she mooched around the room pointlessly, knowing breakfast wouldn't even be being served yet and wanting to pat every piece of ridiculously cushy furniture goodbye, she received a rather elaborate knock on the door, three rhythmic beats followed by a steady drumming, which only cut off once she'd moved to open it. Stood outside was Isabelle, donned in her casual clothes and seeming very much at ease with the world that day, a passively cheerful smile on her face.

Ushering her into her room, Christie went to sit on her bed whilst Isabelle swanned in, crashing down upon a lounging chair that had previously served as Christie's clothes dump. "Ready for the big day?" Isabelle mused conversationally, stretched out so her head dangled off of the back of the sofa. Ever since Christie had come out of the trans-gendered closet, Isabelle had seemed about ten times more comfortable around her, after the initial shock had worn off.

"Just about."

Isabelle's legs, which were also dipping into free fall off of the opposite end of the chair, wiggled around a little bit whilst she pursed her lips, before her head rolled to one side so she was observing Christie, looking her over once before smiling sleepily. "I think I'm supposed to be doing this more formally, but Christie Summers, I wish to extend to you the offer of becoming my lady royal."

Sitting up a little straighter now that it seemed Isabelle hadn't just come to join her in ambling the day away, Christie frowned at her. "This is of course with you bearing in mind my sex?" She inquired, not wanting Isabelle to be jumping into a decision she or her parents/guardians would later regret. Shrugging casually, Isabelle just widened her smile, seeming unnervingly tranquil.

"It'll be fun; honestly, I don't think I could stand to have anyone else accompany me for the rest of my royal life, they'd drive me insane." She laughed now, to herself, her body shaking gently whilst she chuckled. "Besides, who else would bitch about all the fantastically stuck up ladies and nobles I'm going to meet with me?"

"Good point, it would be a crime to abandon you through the very troubling time of becoming even richer and more politically powerful. It must be so difficult for you, moving from a lovely school like this to a tip like the palace of… where is your family's domain anyway?" Christie inquired, realising she'd never asked.

"Just a small island area, off of the south coast," Isabelle waved her off casually, swivelling herself up and around so she was sat upright, leaving the chair behind when she scurried over to go and sit beside Christie. "Naturally your mother and brother would be more than welcome to come and stay in the palace, if you want."

Grinning to herself, just because this was all she had been working for being set out on a platter before her, Christie had to stop herself from laughing from the mix of exhilaration and nerves. "Thanks."

"I take it that means you'll consider my offer?" Isabelle guessed with a smirk. Christie would happily have said yes then and there, but they were supposed to give it a week, so they could do it all properly with application forms and all that bull, but the deal was as good as sealed.

"I most certainly shall."

After chatting for five or so minutes about nothing in particular, Isabelle left, off to say her goodbyes to her other friends, whilst Christie just flopped back lazily onto the bed, closing her eyes. Indulging in picturing a life free of bitchy girls, no longer having to spend her adolescence selling her body for a living and finally having Emile and her mother housed felt good. It felt really good. Still, left over from last week there was still that horrifically uncomfortable niggling feeling that she wished she could fix.

Opening her eyes, she pulled her legs up so they pointed skywards and pouted at them. Not so great at sulking in such a delicate manner, she quickly turned to growling to herself and pressing her palms down into her face, swearing under her breath whilst she let her mind tippy-toed its way back over to the Alex department. Her theory had been right; he had looked good in a tux.

Practically flying off of her bed all of a sudden, she sprung to her feet and glowered in the mirror before her, using her tongue to push out her bottom lip at her reflection. Under no circumstances was she going to waste her last day here moping over Alex and his stupidly, stupidly dense behaviour, or nursing the shattered remains of her heart. Today, as Isabelle had demonstrated, was supposed to be for celebration and for basking in the last of their childhood. Today was going to be her best day here, of that she had to make sure.

It wasn't just Christie who seemed to be fixated on making the most of her final day at Barbie Princess Charm School either. Once she'd stepped out of her room and descended down to the lower levels of the dormitory -as in the ones that were used by everyone else- she quickly realised this would be prom evening all over again. Girls were hugging each other and sobbing into one another, even though they still had the rest of the day left, and everyone was running about trying to find everyone they wanted to spend some time with before the final goodbyes came around.

Whatever feelings they had harboured towards Christie, be it hateful antipathy, a cold alienation or a curious interest, not one girl gave her a dirty look, nor did anyone even ignore her. Everyone was all sad, nostalgic smiles and people she was confident had said no more than five civil words to her came up to her and hugged her. Some of them just wished her good luck and then moved on, whilst others gushed about all the "fond memories" they had of her, which apparently were plentiful enough to fill the space of ten minutes at times. Some of them weren't exactly the friendliest memories, but they certainly proved that if she had been anything, Christie had been memorable.

Christie herself was less of a dishevelled mess of hugs and tears than the rest of them, but found that even she couldn't stop herself from getting a little caught up in the constant waves of emotion that were literally oozing from these girls. The second you thought you'd dried your eyes and cleared your throat for the last time, someone else would rush up to you and start gushing, drenching you once again in the over-whelming sense of leaving some very precious part of you behind.

It took her a whole hour just to leave the dormitory, feeling as though she'd known every girl she was due to leave behind here for her whole life. Once she'd escaped however, the regularity of the assaults of feelings and emotions died down as the friendship groups drifted about, contained within themselves, visiting their favourite parts of the school once again, chatting and reminiscing. For that day it seemed everyone had turned into old women, albeit very, very energetic and loud old women.

Drifting about, hoping to run into Isabelle but never seeming to manage it, Christie found that on that day she was never alone. She wouldn't call herself shy, but here she'd mostly kept to herself in a manner that could have been described as introverted, so she was used to travelling from class to class alone, wrapped up in herself rather than everyone else. Now though, it was impossible to shake people, who all seemed so desperate to ensure that no one was alone. Honestly, it made her feel bad for ever thinking so harshly of them, after all, they were just teenage girls, with the similarly fantastically cruel hormones and developing brains as hers.

After lunch, during which she had sat in a big crowd of twelve girls, gossiping chirpily about the teachers, the food, the classes and the grounds they'd be leaving behind, Christie found that she had her first opportunity to breathe, the two girls who'd stuck to her side having excused themselves to go and use the bathroom. Collapsing back against a locker, Christie found she physically had to catch her breath, running a hand through her hair whilst she chuckled in surprised exhaustion to herself.

"Christie Summers," A rather unexpected voice suddenly called out to her. Normally by now she would have frozen in response to this voice, or groaned internally and looked up with a sour expression on her face, but the magic of the day so far meant that, after keeping her eyes down for a moment to ready herself, she looked up with a perfectly calm expression at Marian, who was stood before her, her hands seated on her hips, her dark hair bouncing flamboyantly around her shoulders.

In turn, Marian didn't look ready to grill her alive, or call her out on her newly discovered sex. Instead she was giving her an appraising look over, her lips pursed, as if they were all the way back in the first day of school when Marian had seen her for the first time. It was different now though, they'd played their games and dealt their hands, and in just a few hours they'd never have to see each other again. It was bound to be a rather strange goodbye.

Bringing her arms forward to fold them over her chest, Marian now looked up to meet Christie's eyes. For once, she wasn't flanked by her minions, or any other adoring girls who wished to suck up to the future high queen of Arcadia on the day she could start choosing her lady royal, a very sought after position. "Christie," Marian said once again, a little more tightly this time, as if her words were strangling her somewhat, but she remained civil, "I'd like to ask you something."

A little taken aback at not receiving some witty criticism or a snarky comment, Christie relaxed slightly more back into the locker and found that despite all that had happened between the two of them, she was smiling. "Sure." Inhaling deeply, Marian visibly composed herself before she actually smiled, a genuine smile that even held a degree of warmth.

"I'd like to ask of you to consider the offer to be my lady royal."

Christie would have thought she was joking if she didn't look so… so… _honest_, which was not something Marian often looked. There was no sarcasm in her voice, nor did she even look the least bit malicious. If anything, she seemed a little nervous, fidgeting repeatedly with her hair and her clothes, her eyes avoiding Christie rather noticeably. "Obviously as my lady royal you'll have more duties, since I'm to be the high queen and the only one who makes any real, _important_ decisions," ah, there was the snobbish distain Christie knew and despised, "but you'd also have the best housing and health care available."

Once Christie had just stared at her for a rather long, awkward minute, she became a little less open and nervous and a little more grumpy and snippy. "No need to stare at me, especially not considering what you are," She hissed tightly, twisting her nose slightly, but then her eyes widened and she looked almost pitiful, "but please do consider my offer."

After giving a jerky sort of nodding movement, she got swept away in the sea of people rushing about so that she was completely invisible in the space of a few seconds, leaving Christie backed against the lockers, not having spoken a word, still in shock. She remained there, staring blankly at the space which had previously been occupied by a girl she'd considered her rival and foe here, having just been propositioned by her.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Isabelle suddenly remarked, emerging from amongst the crowd of people before her. The student body seemed to have become a rather odd, living and breathing organism that day, depositing whoever it saw fit wherever, whenever. It was beginning to unnerve Christie.

"Marian just came to say her final words to her favourite schoolmate," Christie drawled dryly, affording her friend a wry smile before she found Isabelle moving forward to link their elbows so they could glide amongst everyone else together. She wasn't sure how to tell Isabelle about what Marian had actually said, or if she even should. Were you supposed to discuss your offers, was it considered rude, and would Isabelle take offence if she afforded it just a second of consideration?

The idea of her even considering it was ridiculous. Just because she had potentially slightly improved health care, it didn't mean Christie should abandon her friend, or enter a completely unknown lifestyle. Besides, any health care better than that afforded by the scraps Christie pulled together was bound to help their mother recover. Anything royal would help, and Christie didn't need Marian's odd change of heart to mess with that.

Thus, with a rejuvenated cheery relaxation, Christie finished the remainder of her free time with friends, and people who seemed to have suddenly decided to be her friend, giving her room its final goodbye as she slipped into the pink evening gown, her bags already packed to be taken down to a carriage by the footmen whilst she was out at the graduation ceremony. It took her a rather embarrassingly large amount of stumbling about here and there in a somewhat un-lady-royal-like manner to actually work her body into the network of straps, folds and ruffles, but she managed it in the end.

Stood in front of the mirror, she held the training tiara she'd received at the beginning of this whole fiasco in-between her hands, which were suitably manicured and painted to match her dress now. She'd never worn anything as a girl that was this covering, the dress pooling around her on the floor so even her feet were obscured, her arms half hidden by translucent floaty sleeves that started just below her shoulders, tied into the dress. It hit home then, after she'd settled the tiara into her hair and looked her reflection in the eyes. She meant it not out of arrogance, but even to her -who enjoyed the slum traits in her appearance which reminded her that it didn't matter that she didn't fit in her- she looked like a princess.

Laughing at herself for having such a childish thought, she ran the pad of her thumb under each of her eyes to catch any loose moisture, which she was brazenly denying existed, and then gave her reflection a cheeky wink and blew a kiss at it before slipping out of the door, still giggling to herself under her breath. Once Isabelle had joined her at the bottom of the stairs, they made their way together over to the carriages which would then in turn transport them to the palace for their graduation ceremony.

Neither Christie's mother nor brother would be present, but it was better that way. This was about saying goodbye to her school life. It suited her that her family and her school life should never have to touch, so that this strange, angelic world could remain untainted by her true reality.

The cathedral was beautiful; Christie was not religious in the slightest, but even she could tell it was beautiful. Constructed from a mix of brick and alabaster that glowed softly in the afternoon sunlight, it had clearly taken great amounts of time and money to be constructed, carvings of angels worked into the walls alongside little floral and religious motifs. Furnished with bouquets of white roses and lilies, the room had a certain atmosphere that was caught between being holistic and soothing. Christie had to give it to these people; they knew how to host an event.

Taking her seat next to Isabelle, Christie sat numbly through the opening speeches, refusing to look to her left. On the right hand pews, the female students had been seated, whilst on the left, the boys from their partner school had gathered, all wearing suits of soft, neutral colours. Once they went through the individual crownings however, it became rather more difficult to ignore them.

It did not help that Alex looked out over at her whilst the gathered priest read out the short sermon to him, or that the well-preened look suited him. Whilst he'd looked sufficiently infuriated back at prom, now he just looked sad, a half-smile on his face that made him resemble a kicked puppy. It was the one low point in an otherwise perfect day, the unwelcome rush of a need to run out over to him and just fix things, to explain why he couldn't be engaged to Marian and why she had acted the way she had. It was all in her head however, and she did no such thing, and so two minutes later Alex was seated once more, now an officially crowned and graduated prince, and Christie did not look over at him again.

Whilst she sat through the rest of their formalities however, smiling and clapping on automatic with everyone else at people's victories, her mind drifted back over to Marian and her offer. It was for a terrible, selfish reason that she was even considering it. If Alex really was engaged to Marian, a fact which she had later confirmed with several other people after learning of it, then he would undoubtedly be spending time with her, at her palace, at her social events. Were she to accompany Isabelle to her island kingdom, she was unlikely to ever seen him again, that last sad look of loss the last one they may ever share.

Clenching her fists in her lap, she glowered down at the floor whilst around her everyone erupted into applause as Abigail smiled, curtseyed and then returned to her seat, crowned. "Christie Summers," Dame Devin called out from up front, and with a little nudge from Isabelle, Christie slipped out from the pew and made her way up to the priest, who nodded to her with a kind smile and then once again recited another sermon, which Christie was sure that by now everyone else had stopped listening to as well.

She focused dully on him whilst he spoke, letting the words seep through her, not really hearing them, just thinking about the fact that she'd have to turn and face them all in a moment, her secret successfully kept, her grades raised, her head still on her shoulders. Finally grinning to herself as she should be, she decided that Alex could go fuck himself for all she cared at that moment and turned, looking out across them all as she was given the official title of Lady Royal Christie Summers. They all clapped back, everyone who'd betted she'd be gone within a week and everyone who'd helped Marian shut her in various closets and attempt more violent assaults on her. With what she decided was deserved smugness, she smiled back and curtseyed. Despite everything, she'd done it.

* * *

A week later, sat on the tattered red plush sofa of her home in the slums, Christie thumbed between the two letters of application that she had held in her lap. One was from Isabelle, one from Marian. She'd been stretched out like this considering for the past hour. She was still no closer to choosing.

Both her mother and Emile had told her they would adore whichever she chose, and she had researched the medical facilities of both and phoned Isabelle about it. She had no doubt that her mother would be more than well-tended to whichever she chose. So now it came down to a matter of choice.

It was less of a choice between Isabelle and Alex than it was between Alex and her trust of Marian. She knew she'd ensure she'd stay friends with Isabelle no matter what she chose, and Isabelle would no doubt be too busy with her new life to miss her all that much. Alex however was, as always, an entirely different issue.

Christie did not trust Marian. She did not hate her like she used to, not after the most recent events of her breaking down and crying before her, or how vulnerable she'd seemed when she'd been extending her offer, but this was Marian. Firstly, her employment with her would hardly be stable, since not only was Marian the least stable person she knew, but their relationship was rocky to say the least. Moreover, this could well all just be some devious plan to screw her over in the long run, and ensure that "someone like her" never ended up in the political game of Arcadia.

Alex however… She rolled over onto her front and with all the airs and graces of a lady royal, crushed her face down into the cushion, grumbling. She didn't like feeling like this, this conflicted and this toyed with, but at the same time it was an oddly addicting, dizzying experience. By now she'd reached the stage where she could be bluntly straight with herself about the fact that yes, she'd been in love with Alex, and despite the destruction of their last few weeks at school, she still was.

Curling herself round back onto her back, she glanced over Marian's letter of application for the position of lady royal of High Arcadia. It sounded nice. Seeing Alex courting Marian whilst she played at being Marian's bitch however, sounded less nice, and abandoning her friend and risking her own security and her family's for the sakes of someone who'd screwed her over with how dense he was, also seemed less nice. With a small intake of breath in preparation, she took the letter in two hands and ripped it cleanly in half before compiling them and ripping them once more so it was in four separate, useless pieces. Isabelle and her island it was.


	23. Chapter 23 - Stammering

**A/N: Carved from the finest cheese available. Also scary penultimate chapter is scary. **

Taylor Swift had this horrific ability to be catchy; even if you despised her and all her songs, even if you were just passing by whilst someone had been playing one of her infinite songs about heartbreak aloud, you would inevitably find yourself singing along to one -which you only knew two lines to- in the shower. The water was scalding hot, but that was what made it a shower, so Christian was far more disturbed about the fact that he kept mumbling to himself over and over, "I knew you were trouble," without actually really knowing the tune, so he sounded like a strangled cat. A strangled cat singing Taylor swift. He was so proud of himself.

Cutting off the water before he could embarrass himself by making up the rest of the lyrics, he clambered out of the bathtub he'd been standing in –which like everything here was disgustingly elaborate and stunningly beautiful, crafted from a crystal like material- and he towelled himself off.

Six months had gone by since the graduation day of tearful hugs and beaming smiles of achievement, and here he was, still alive, breathing and functioning. Oh yeah, and also living in a life of luxury and apparently also one of political importance, as adviser to a guardian queen of a domain. It had been half a year, but that realisation still felt so alien to him.

Emile was no better. Every night when Christian went to do the bedtime routine with him he would, without fail, exclaim on how "awesome" this all was. His room was small compared to the rest, up in the east tower so he had a fantastic view of the grounds, but despite his cynical attitude to life, even he was openly taken by their new home. That part was the one that made it all worth it, the fact that Emile, who'd been far too bitter and sceptical for a twelve year old, finally seemed to be getting the childhood the slums had never allowed him.

Their mother slept in the hospital wing, down over in the west. Her leukaemia was finally being tackled, and with money not being a problem, not only did they no longer receive crushing calls in the night from doctors telling them that tonight might be her last, but instead they'd now been told that things seemed to be looking up and if all went well, her treatment would mean she'd be free of it entirely. It seemed Marian's supposed "_best health care_" wasn't needed after all.

Everything seemed to have fallen right into place. Isabelle was always busy, acting the princess she'd been trained to be, and Christian had been surprised that despite how critical he'd been of these being actual positions of employment, being a Lady Royal did require effort. The first few months he'd been a nervous wreck, having discovered that the decisions he helped make would determine the future of people's lives and that not knowing what he was talking about left him in an incredibly awkward place.

This time he hadn't needed Alex though; he'd done his own research, discussed the matter at length with Isabelle and now, at this six month landmark, he could say with a degree of honest confidence that he knew what he was doing. Marian might have been right, perhaps he wasn't the most suitable candidate or in anyway the most traditional one, but like before he'd worked for it, and now he had the knowledge to prove it.

Securing the towel around his waist, Christian brushed his hair back and then padded through to the bedroom to hunt down some clothes. Today was supposedly a day of rest for him, since Isabelle was spending the day showing around two charming young princesses from the mainland. This all meant that Christie could take a break from royal life and Christian could just mooch around being lazy.

Only a few select people in the palace knew that Christian the male even existed, the king and queen included in this little sect. They'd all insisted that he keep it under the radar, at least for now, until everyone had fully adjusted to him and his less concealable differences, such as his background and attitude. Fishing around in the ridiculous walk in wardrobe he now owned, he tugged out the box of male clothing from out under the various dresses and gowns hung up on a rail and tried to find his sweatpants; if he was going to bomb out, he was going to do it properly.

Before he'd achieved his goal of acquiring the perfect blipping-out ensemble however, someone knocked at his door and he jumped a little, having been wrapped up in trying to remember those lyrics to that damn Taylor Swift song. Before he could ask them to hold on so he could throw on something that could help him pass a female such as a hoodie that would swamp his body however, the noise of the door being opened quite without permission could be heard from through in his bedroom.

Plastering his back against the wall of the wardrobe so that he would be hidden from view from anyone inside the room, he cussed to himself under his breath and hoped they'd be deterred by his visual absence and just leave. "Christie?" Whoever they were called, sounding faintly familiar but not remembered clearly enough for him to place a name to it.

From through in the bedroom, the noise of footsteps could be heard as the intruder paced forward, looking around for him. "Christian?" They asked again, now using his birth name and speaking far more gently, sounding rather unsure of themselves. This time however, since their knowledge of his identity somewhat narrowed down the potential persons list, Christian knew who it was and remained stuck against the wall, his breath frozen in his throat whilst he just stared straight ahead, remaining completely still.

When his visitor refused to leave, waiting patiently for his magical appearance, Christian glowered a little to himself as he crept a few steps forward and pried a jumper from the box, slipping into it before taking a deep breath and stepping out to face them. He probably looked rather odd, in a towel and a jumper with no T-shirt and crazy towel hair, but then appearance was really the least of his problems in this area.

"Alex," Christian noted shortly, sounding a little breathless even to himself. Before him was indeed Alex, stood awkwardly in the middle space of his room with nothing to prop himself against. Once Christian had confronted him his position changed from one of curious searching to instead draw back on itself so his body language was incredibly awkward and he brought an arm across his chest defensively, holding his opposite arm with his hand.

At first they just regarded one another, Alex opening and closing his mouth like a guppy fish, no discernable noise coming out, whilst Christian chose to lean against the doorframe of the wardrobe, waiting with a unimpressed grimace on his face, one eyebrow gradually arching as Alex continued his impression of aquatic life. "I've been an idiot," Alex confessed finally, his voice filled with shaky humour as he laughed at himself, his eyebrows tilting backwards so his expression became apologetic.

Christian was in no mood to baby him. "Really, you're telling me that?" He drawled back, clearly not helping Alex's confidence levels as he started rocking back and forth on his feet, his nervous smile now becoming far more fearful.

"I mean a genuinely, massive, totally disastrous asshole of an idiot." He tried out a smirk again, and whilst Christian's automatic response would have been to go tell him to fuck himself, it wasn't as if he didn't mean anything to him, as if they were back to the point where Alex was someone who had discovered his secret and they simply had to stand each other.

Sighing, leaning more heavily against the side of the doorframe, Christian looked Alex over. He was dressed down, for a prince, no jacket or such adorning his torso, simply a plain dress shirt. Christian had a feeling this might have been supposed to make him feel more comfortable, since around him Alex had always tried to shift the prince-act, but after six months of living as a Lady Royal, he'd gotten more than used to people dressing as if they'd stepped out of a fairytale. "Whilst I'm enjoying this, I have no idea why you're slagging yourself off quite so much, or why you're even here," Christian pointed out dryly, both his eyebrows now obscured by his fringe.

With his personal self-degrading insults out of the way, Alex honestly seemed stuck, having no idea what to do with himself. It was obvious from the furrowing of his brow that he'd planned out how to go about this and was trying to adapt it to the conversation, but he simply ended up pointlessly stuttering, "I didn't- I mean I should have but- I wasn't- I _couldn't_-" It would have been adorable if Christian wasn't so determined to be angry with him. Still, he was making a visible effort, and it was _Alex._

Biting back a smile, Christian propped his arm up above him so that he himself looked perfectly relaxed to just emphasis how very panicked Alex was. "Deep breaths, calm minds, words I can actually fucking understand," He advised in a monotonous tone, attempting to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Do you still get away with swearing here?" Alex asked suddenly, giving Christian a rather critical eye-over, although it was said with a soft smile.

For a moment Christian forgot that he'd screamed at Alex, that Alex had kept the fact that he was engaged to Marian from him and that he was supposed to be furious at him for breaking his heart, and it felt as if everything had returned to them just being two schoolmates, quipping back and forth. "I'm the charmingly unruly one now, rather than the notorious slut, which makes a nice change," He informed him with a rueful smile, receiving a small laugh in return, before they lapsed back into silence.

Trying to hold onto it, that magical air of childhood, Alex repeated, "charmingly unruly…" whilst smirking to himself, although he started fidgeting again.

"And you're an idiot, although you still haven't explained _why_," Christian prompted him, deciding to give him a helping hand since he'd decided he rather liked Alex having a breakdown in his room, since it would mean they'd at least be even on that front.

Running a hand back through his hair -which had grown longer since they'd last met so that it hung around his jaw- Alex winced. "Oh, yeah… I mean, with Marian-"

"Ah yes, how are the happy couple?" Christian interrupted shamelessly, the flare of agitation at Marian's name meaning his sympathy was quickly extinguished and the defensive bitterness was back.

"We didn't- we're not married."

Well, that made things different. "Please tell me she died in a horrific accident," He begged with perhaps undeserved malice, but then he may have spent the past six months picturing their wedding, an experience that had been rather sickening.

"She's fine, she's currently in India visiting rich gentlemen and drinking rich wine," Alex told him in an off-hand casual manner that made him sound entirely disinterested in her well-fare, which admittedly went down well with Christian, but since they were talking about Marian he was still feeling a little snippy.

"Perhaps she'll get alcohol poisoning," He mused to himself, drumming his fingers on the side of his legs absently.

Taking his own turn to raise an eyebrow, Alex waited to see if he was done insulting Marian and then exhaled. "Now you're the one distracting me."

"Sorry, you were saying you were an idiot because you haven't married the fair lady Marian?" Christian returned to their original subject, a little nervous of what was to come next, but determined not to show it. Alex meanwhile was shaking his head, looking rather frustrated with himself.

"No, I was an idiot for thinking I should marry Marian."

These were all exactly the kinds of things Christian had wanted to hear, and yet instead of feeling relieved and at peace, his heart was beginning to beat irritatingly fast and he could feel his face flushing, an odd sense of discomfort and anticipation setting in, and he felt obligated to deter Alex as much as possible before he could say what he'd come here to say. "I'm sure your parents were thrilled by this little epiphany."

"Maybe… not talking about my parents at the moment would be best," Alex admittedly slowly, a little hesitant to even address the subject before he shook himself off and tried to start again.

"I've just realised I never asked, what are they like?" Christian was very talented at this whole distracting thing.

"Furious, since Marian would have made me the high king, which is every little prince's parents' dream," Alex answered with a kind of resigned acceptance of his fate, not exactly sounding bitter, more a little exasperated.

"They didn't appreciate your little rebellious phase then?"

Walking over to the edge of Christian's bed, Alex leant against one of the wooden posts and gave him a depreciative look over. "You're doing it again."

"Apologies_ sire_," Christian sneered a little, these nerves not doing his temper any good. Glaring at him now, although it was less out of dislike than out of frustration, Alex straightened himself out and exhaled heavily.

"Look, what I wanted to say was that I was sorry."

"I should hope you are," Christian clipped back nonchalantly before hesitating, not wanting to presume the answer to the question in his mind, but feeling too nervous to actually ask. "Although… what exactly are you sorry about now?"

"That I screwed everything up so badly, that I was a dense idiot and that I still thought I could somehow get away with pinning all my life on tradition after meeting you."

Narrowing his eyes slightly at Alex for a moment, Christian's smile tightened. "I'm truly honoured by that subtle insult." Alex seemed completely unbothered by his choice to focus on that however, his expression annoyingly pure and innocent, so that Christian ended up feeling guilty about trying to make him squirm like this.

"You should be, I've never been more grateful for anything else in my life." It was strange how Alex indirectly complimenting him feel so much more flustered than any insult ever could. To an insult he could just be smart and angry back, with these he had to reel in the storm of pent up agitation he'd been building up and actually remain civil.

"You're a prince, you have much more to be grateful for than me fucking with your head."

Finally getting riled up by Christian's incessant sarcastic replies and quips like any normal human should, Alex folded his arms over his chest and scowled at him. "Christian, can you please stop being so sarcastic for just a minute, I'm trying to have a mature, adult conversation here?" He asked of him with some degree of self-restraint, seeming genuinely annoyed by now but Christian couldn't help mimicking him,

"_Mature, adult conversation_. I vaguely recall the last time I wasn't sarcastic with you it ended with me screaming at you instead."

So he'd finally managed to bring it up, the whole ordeal that he wasn't proud of and yet was too indignant and stubborn to regret either. It felt good in some ways, to have finally managed to say it instead of just pretending it had never happened as such, or never directing it head on, but to Alex it only seemed to tire him further. "That's why I need to apologise. So please, just for now, can we be serious? Even if that means you shouting at me again," He begged of him, no longer critical rather than pleading.

Exhaling, trying to relax out of the strangely conflicted state he'd worked himself up into, Christian drummed his fingers on the doorframe for a moment before leaving it behind entirely, going over to perch neatly on the edge of the bed in an attentive manner, in response to which Alex drew up a chair to sit before him, just that little bit lower down than him which made him feel about twice as comfortable, unpressured. "That does sound tempting. Alright then, you start this _mature adult conversation_. What do you wish to discuss?"

Christian could tell what was coming once Alex flushed, and felt rather nauseated by it. Not sickened as such, but he started feeling rather light-headed and his stomach was in knots, so that he too now fiddled with his hands in his lap, whilst Alex squirmed where he sat, staring at the floor for a good while before he plucked up the courage to meet Christian's eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't see what was right in front of me-"

"No, if I have to be serious, you have to be original; no cheesy movie quotes," Christian ordered, determined that if this was going to happen, it was going to happen right, so that he could hold onto it.

Stammering, not taking well to being interrupted just after he'd been brave enough to start, Alex was slowly turning crimson. He began to protest, "Christian-"

"Rules are rules." Pouting where he sat, Alex curled his shoulders over so that he looked rather meek, fumbling with the edges of his shirt before he straightened out, a grim look of determination on his face.

"Fine then, I'm sorry I gave you certain impressions, and I'm sorry I screwed you over and I'm sorry I didn't value you properly," He reeled off very formally, but also sincerely, driving through everything he needed to say quickly, but Christian still caught every word.

Deciding Alex had earned the right not to be grilled for that one, Christian gave a half smile and nodded in indication that he should go on. "Better, keep going, especially about the valuing part; that was good for the ego." Admittedly his voice was beginning to border on the judgemental drawl, but the fact that he could feel his ears burning up and his head was spinning contributed greatly to that fact.

"You said you wouldn't be sarcastic," Alex reminded him shiftily, having trouble with Christian not being fully receptive to this.

Souring slightly, Christian looked elsewhere, out of the window to observe the lawns of the palace; his hands now held in tight fists in his lap, his palms covered in a cold sweat. "My mistake. I'm sorry I shouted at you quite so loudly, your ears were innocent victims in all of this and did not deserve to be harmed," He conceded off-handedly, trying to sound airy about it, not comfortable with how twisted his insides seem to be becoming.

Alex however seemed less willing to relent, pressing on to protest once more, "you-"

"How the _hell _am I supposed to be serious about this Alex? What is it that you want me to say, that I forgive you, that it didn't matter to me, that I had just over reacted and that now it's all perfectly fine?" Christian demanded hotly, his head whipping round to face Alex again once whatever he'd been bundling up inside snapped and he finally got to shout at Alex again. It had needed to be done, a huge weight felt as though it had been lifted as he finally pointed out to Alex that yes, he had been hurt, in case Sherlock hadn't worked it out already.

A little taken aback by the sudden explosion, Alex dropped his eyes again in remorse and chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking carefully over what he should say next. Waiting a little impatiently, Christian knew what he needed him to say, but was becoming increasingly paranoid that it had all been in his head, or that he'd just blown it with trampling all of Alex's apology so roughly. He probably hadn't played this diplomatically. Keeping his eyes glued to his lap, Alex eventually huffed, "Christian, I'm sorry I didn't realise I was in love with you."

So it really was happening. Christian wasn't sure if he was excited, terrified, overjoyed or still angry. Perhaps another go at it would help him decide. "Say that again," He instructed, sounding almost strict, as if Alex had told him some important fact rather than confessing his love to him.

"I'm sorry I didn't realise I was in love with you," Alex repeated obediently, his eyes scanning Christian diligently to try and gauge his reaction, whilst the weight of the moment had rendered Christian completely expressionless, which wasn't very helpful to the prince.

"Just the last part," Christian requested, not sounding strangled as he had expected his voice to, but instead he sounded almost gentle, speaking quietly and without forcefulness or nerves. Whilst it surprised Christian, it seemed of great aid to Alex who suddenly broke out into a more confident grin that was verging on being goofy.

"I'm in love with you; I have no problem with saying it."

Whilst Christian did not think it a trick, his automatic defensive response was to check. "This isn't all part of Marian's revenge for me denying her offer of being her lady royal is it?"

"Christian, I don't talk to Marian anymore, I've barely even seen her in the last month; she's refused to speak to me ever since I broke off the engagement."

"I would have loved to have watched that," Christian mused with a lilted smile, a perfectly terrible human as he revelled in the idea of Marian no longer having her arranged fiancé to flaunt. Somehow though, Christian didn't think she'd be all that upset about it.

"It's odd, she puts on a huge show in front of everyone of being angry with me, but when I told her I didn't think I could marry her, she seemed rather relieved," Alex confirmed quietly, speaking more to himself than to Christian in that moment, before he glanced back up at him, still having not received an answer to his declaration.

Biting down on his lower lip in hesitation, admittedly petrified of stepping into something so big, Christian didn't criticise Alex but he didn't fling himself at him either. "So when you say you're in love with me you mean…?"

"I love you."

Christian was usually so collected around Alex, yet every time he said that it made him want to crawl off into a corner and rock back and forth for a while just to wrap his head around how big it seemed to him. Yes, he'd been a prostitute, but those were two entirely separate things, and as he'd mentioned before, he'd never been in a _relationship_ as such. "That's a pretty big word to use, are you sure you mean it? I mean, last time we met, you kind of trampled all over my heart, so to speak," He pointed out with a dorky sort of lopsided grin that was probably more of a grimace, judging by how tight his face felt.

"Yes I mean it; why else would I have risked pissing of my entire family and travelled all the way over here if I wasn't completely sure I meant it?" Alex assured him with just a remainder of the bitterness he'd used earlier when referring to his parents, a wry smile on his face whilst he waited attentively for Christian to hurry the hell up and process all of this. His grin widening, Christian just shrugged.

"Rebellious phase," He teased, although Alex seemed to take it seriously as his brow creased.

"Jesus Christian, I wasn't-"

"Relax, I was just teasing."

Staring flatly at him for a moment, Alex exhaled slowly and then rolled his eyes. "Asshole."

"You're the one who claims they're in love with me so I think that reflects badly on you too." That earned him a small laugh from Alex, but his manner suddenly changed noticeably and once again he was all about fidgeting, hesitating before doing something.

It was not a moment of being overcome in feverish passion like in sickening rom-coms, it was twitchy and awkward, but Alex did it all the same and for Christian that was what counted. Slowly pushing himself from his chair, he took one step to cross the small distance between them and then, with his hand not seeming to know where to go so they remained hovering in indecision in the air, Alex leant in and kissed him.

To say Christian had been kissed a lot was to say the sea had been peed in a lot; a rather tragically vast underestimation. He'd been kissed by and kissed older men, younger men, men with stubble and clean shaven men, the list could go on, but the conclusive point was he'd kissed a damn lot of people. Every time he'd done it with someone else though, it had been for work, to earn his keep, not because he ever had any emotional attachment, and thus, without wishing to sound clichéd or cheesy, with Alex it was different.

Alex didn't treat him like bought goods, something to drain pleasure from and use to his desires; instead he lacked the business-like confidence and was instead still unsure of himself, pulling back a little to see if everything was alright. Surprised at his own behaviour, Christian found he too was scared by the prospect of continuing, wondering if he was going about this correctly, or if years of giving paid sex had conditioned him to do the actual, real, romantic type of love all wrong.

Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Shuffling back on the bed a little, he slipped one hand up to rest behind Alex's neck and then brought him in closer so he was leaning into him, kissing him again like a nervous teenager, just simply and softly on the lips, appreciating the fact that for once, this meant something to him. Now though, he couldn't feel angry, or even the slightest bit concerned as to anything outside of this. "Alex," He mumbled, feeling oddly shy, "I love you too."


	24. Chapter 24 - Difficult Questions

**A/N: So I lied, _this_ is the penultimate chapter, since my plans for the last one split themselves in half (I say plans. This was hastily shoved together in an improvised attempt to conclude this madness) Either way, I hope you enjoy this. **

"Boobs or no boobs?"

"That sounds like some kind of horrifically twisted game show."

"I am trying to take your opinion into account, _darling_, so tell me; to boob or not to boob?" Christian demanded again with a slightly strained, irritated tone that had been spawned from the wreck his nerves were in. It didn't help that Alex seemed unfairly relaxed about this whole affair.

"Which ever you feel most comfortable with," he answered airily with a kind smile and a manner of complete ease. Christian just exclaimed in despair furiously with a wordless noise and then turned his back on his incredibly unhelpful better half.

Stood in front of a full length mirror in his underwear, Christian was being asked to make a life-shaping decision in the next –he checked his watch- thirty minutes. Thirty minutes was hardly enough time to get ready for this. Having absolutely no support from Alex wasn't exactly helping either.

Glaring at his reflection, Christian scrutinised his torso and lower regions, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to go about the rest of his life as a ravishing female or an equally stunning male. Glancing down at the bra held in his hands, he pursed his lips and tried to do some soul searching, which is extraordinarily difficult to do whilst panicking and on the clock. He didn't exactly have time to suddenly get into meditating.

Unexpectedly popping up behind him, Alex casually slunk his arms around his waist and kissed the side of his neck, watching his expression in the mirror. "You know I'll love you whichever one you choose, right?" He reminded him with a smirk that meant he was well aware he sounded as though he'd fallen out of a chick flick, so Christian had permission to hurriedly shove him off.

"Piss off you unhelpful cheeseball," he snipped hotly as he wiggled free of the arms and ran a hand back through his hair, grumbling to himself under his breath.

Slipping the bra and implants back on, he twisted around in front of the mirror, humming under his breath as he pointedly ignored Alex laughing to himself as the prince went around dressing himself, completely without the dilemma of having to decide which gender he wished to reside in. Bloody cisgendered bastards.

His angry mental rant stilling, Christian stopped turning and looked himself over with an oddly cold sensation washing over his skin. Dressed up in a preppy school uniform, being a girl had always meant to him being Christie, a skin he felt comfortable in, that he functioned in for his own survival and who was an intricate part of him, but now it felt oddly different. Before Christie, outside of this bizarre bubble world where everyone glittered, being a female had meant going out and selling his body for sex, getting viewed and treated as an object and in solely a bra, too many other memories were elicited.

Exhaling quietly, Christian knew he couldn't be Christie anymore; for him, being female had been a part of him, but at the same time a shell. As someone who was comfortable as both a male and a female, when the female side of him was accompanied by so much unpleasantness and a world that he was now leaving behind, he finally felt that here, in a life where he wasn't a prostitute and his mother and brother weren't a constant risk, he was male. Unclipping the bra, he dropped it down on the floor and smiled inwardly, a welcome sense of freedom accompanying the action.

Decked up in his very first formal suit, he at least knew how to put one on after having dressed and undressed so many clients, so he didn't come off as an idiot in front of Alex, who was still swanning around in an odd bubble of contentment, which was unnerving considering he was going to be on the chopping block today too. True, he wasn't the former cross-dressing hooker who had seduced a little prince away from his arranged fiancé and such, but then he was the one who'd broken off the engagement and come and declared his love. Overall, Christian got the impression that Alex's parents weren't all that happy with either of them.

Grimacing at himself in the mirror as he slipped the cufflinks into place, Christian had no desire to start down that path of thought, but considering what was about to come, it was somewhat inevitable and it had been plaguing him ever since he'd found out about this. He had asked Alex what his parents were like and the prince had been infuriatingly vague in his answers, simply passing them off as "fine" or "parent-y" which for starters wasn't even a damn word let alone something that was likely to quell Christian's nerves.

His current mental image of them was nightmarishly stereotypical; two stuck up royals who were so posh they could probably turn water to creamed tea just by looking at it. Naturally in his state of fearful alarm, he predicted they'd be exactly the kind of people who would view him as a rather unpleasant substance on their shoes. Either way, he was about to find out.

Alex had sworn blind he hadn't arranged this, and since Christian had recently discovered he had great skills in coaxing Alex into complying, he actually believed him, so instead he had a rather strong suspicion that Isabelle was behind all this, as an act of revenge for the fact that in six months, Christian would be leaving her employment. It wasn't that Christian and she had fallen out, it was simply the fact that due to certain ambitions, Christian couldn't be stuck on an island with Alex living six hundred miles away. Those particular ambitions were one of the many things Christian was worried about for this evening.

Alex and Christian were the last to arrive, since Christian had indeed been right that thirty minutes was not enough to get ready, especially when looking prim and proper suddenly mattered so much and his heart was doing double time as he tugged at this hem and that. Being last however meant that they had to walk in and seat themselves with everyone else gathered and watching them.

Isabelle's dining hall was today themed with silvers and golds, the whole room shimmering and glowing slightly, what with all the reflections and the fabrics and such were all white with little glittering threads of colour woven in. She'd gone all out to make this evening presentable, perhaps out of kindness to try and make Christian look more like he came from some position of importance and wealth, or perhaps this was again an act of revenge, to highlight Christian's background against such posh decorations.

Regardless, the most terrifying thing about the room before him was the people gathered. The guest list was as follows; Alex and Christian, Alex's parents, Christian's mother (who was now well enough to dine and who had been dressed according to Isabelle's whims), Isabelle and her parents and for some insane reason that made Christian confident that this was all an act of rueful revenge, _Marian_ and her parents were sat at the end of the table. It was a collection of all the people Christian least wanted to encounter under the announcement that firstly he was male and staying that way, and secondly that he and Alex were now a "thing".

Everyone had gone rather appropriately quiet, all looking over at them as they entered through the double doors. Christian's mother tried out an encouraging smile, having already readily accepted the relationship when Christian had had something of a breakdown about it to her, but everyone else in the room seemed rather tight-lipped and displeased.

Normally the confident one, Christian discovered that in this scenario, with all these vultures and proud lions about, he was the equivalent of a petrified mouse, so that Alex had to nudge him to remember to walk forward and take one of the two seats in the middle left of the table, where everyone could see and talk to them, the perfect position for them to be torn apart. Catching Isabelle's lilted smile, Christian knew he'd been right; this was her way of making sure they were even for him abandoning her.

Sat opposite them were two individuals Christian had never before encountered and thus they were, undoubtedly, Alex's parents. After an awkward moment of Christian just gazing at them, waiting for them to turn up their noses at him or snip something subtly cruel at him, Alex's mother smiled and then reached her hand out across the width of the table, the gesture extraordinarily elegant and fluent so that it looked almost as if she were dancing. "Christian, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," she greeted him with a trimmed politeness in her voice that meant Christian knew that despite the smile and welcoming gesture, he was not in the safe zone yet.

Still, it was far more than he'd been expecting, so trying to bite back his nerves he reached out and took her hand, shaking it with all the grace he could muster, considering he felt as though he might pass out from the nerves. Thanks to those, he'd fumbled the shake slightly and he could tell she'd picked up on it as her smile tightened a little and her grip became more pinched. If there was a hell on earth, this had to be it. "You too," Christian choked out, fairly sure it'd be considered rude if he just ducked over his chair and vomited; it wasn't exactly princely behaviour.

Down at the end of the table, Marian was decked up in exotic red fabrics and her light skin was patterned with reddish-brown henna markings, no doubt the bounty from her travels, looking like some sort of Arabian queen. Christian had expected her to smirk at how obviously he was failing just the basic greeting stage of meeting the parents, yet when she caught him glancing over at her she simply smiled in a manner that could practically be described as _friendly._ As though this evening hadn't been surreal enough already.

Sat either side of the high princess of Arcadia were the king and queen, their presence no doubt to be classified as an honour and Christian had managed to sufficiently copy Alex's bow to them when they'd entered, but now he had to rely on the etiquette classes he'd been given back at charm school. Throughout that year, he'd spent every lesson despairing at how stupid and idiotic it all seemed, and right now he was grimacing inwardly at how relevant it had all become. He refused to embarrass himself in front of these people, especially with his mother watching.

The king and queen were the perfectly prim, posh couple that Christian had imagined Alex's parents to be, going about everything delicately and giving Alex and Christian tight looks of well-masked disapproval so that they were the perfect picture of royalty. Stuck between them, Marian seemed rather uncomfortable, keeping unusually quiet compared to her loud, tyrannical persona back at school.

In comparison, Alex's parents actually seemed rather low-key. His mother was a fierce looking woman with billows of curling copper hair, her face very young for its age and she dressed more like she was descended from a roman goddess, her hair pieces rather befitting of one with their blood red jewels and alabaster stonework. Beside her sat her husband, a man who seemed to be surrounded by a permanent sort of quiet, his face simultaneously strong and soft, with thinning waves of mousy brown hair and a nose too big for his face, yet he was handsome in a gentle sort of way.

Christian was relieved that they weren't Marian's parents, since he was fairly sure they'd decided to detest him right off the bat, yet they seemed far more full as people this way, far less predictable and he was unable to pass them off as just cut-outs; his nerves did nothing to help the sensation that this lioness of a woman could claw him apart in an instant.

The attack began subtly, she would simply question him about off-handed, casual things, steering clear of the subject of him having being transsexual or the fact that he and Alex were coupled, being perfectly conversational. She seemed to think this was proper, maybe even kind, but the fact that the subject was left untouched meant that Christian just lived in constant fear of her addressing it, something of a mess as he stuttered and stumbled his way through his responses.

Thankfully, Alex eventually took it upon himself to intervene, engaging his own mother in some equally banal chit chat, giving Christian a chance to breathe, all whilst noting that Alex's father was watching him silently with a far too observant gaze. "Will you relax?" Alex hissed under his breath. "You're acting like you're on trial."

"I'm fairly sure it's impossible to relax in a collar this stiff," Christian quipped back, unable to think of anything decently witty to respond with, too petrified for his brain to function properly as he tugged at the collar that he was confident was choking him.

Unsatisfied with his unabashed dismissal of the opportunity to wind down, Alex caught Christian's hand and tried to rub it in reassurance. "Christian, my mother swears," Alex informed him in a hushed tone, leaning in just slightly to Christian's side, keeping his eyes on the meal that had been served several minutes earlier as he went about dicing it in the correct manner. Unable to keep his face straight and remain looking ahead, Christian turned round to check he was serious, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Smirking knowingly to himself, Alex afforded him one little smile before turning to his left and chatting calmly to Isabelle, who he'd never really met before but he then demonstrated the truth behind the rumours that Christian had once heard about his ability to be charming towards everyone. It wasn't as if Alex had just told him his mother was a secret agent, or a pole dancer, but there was undeniably something comforting about the knowledge that the woman sat in front of him was a human being, not a goddess, who suffered the same affliction as Christian did as having a not so secret pleasure in using vulgar language.

It was probably a bad sign that it helped; if Christian was relaxed by the fact that people swore perhaps it meant that he'd never fit in in this high class society, but then they apparently weren't as proper as they appeared. Grinning to himself because he couldn't help it, he thought he'd try diving right in there himself. "Your highness, what would you say is your opinion on the act to demolish the slum areas in Arcadia?" He inquired lightly, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible whilst beginning the inevitable approach to the topic of his heritage.

Pausing mid-way through slicing her meat, the lower queen glanced up at him with a look of mild surprise. Whether this was a pleasant surprise at his newfound bravery to start his own topic, and one so close to home at that, or if it was one of disapproval at his brashness, he wouldn't know, but if he was going to have to endure anymore of these dinners in his life time, he was going to have to be able to "be himself" because otherwise he thought he might end up snapping one of these days.

"I don't see it as an effective way to deal with the poverty problem at all; it seems far more sensible to me to work on improving the quality of life in the slums and bringing more of the population into the public sector with legal jobs and legal pay. After all, if you demolish those kinds of places, they'll just move and start springing up elsewhere all over again," She answered him with a perfect fluency that somehow managed to not sound rehearsed, coming off as almost nonchalant in her sincerity.

Even though she'd seemed detached in her answer as she was careful around her words, Christian was still delighted with the answer; if this woman swore and wanted to help make slum life better, he had to like her. His goofy grin back at her probably wasn't very "high class" or refined as such, hence the reason she raised an eyebrow at him, but it was accompanied by a more proper, small smile too, so all at once the terror that had been knotting in his stomach gave way and he decided that whether or not they liked him, Christian was perfectly happy with Alex's parents.

"Mother, there's actually something I wanted to ask you about," Alex announced a little later, once they were through onto desert and Christian had discovered that Alex's mother was just as easy to talk to as Alex, since they shared a rather rare stubborn honesty in the way they spoke. His eyes flickering over to Alex, Christian could tell from his tone what he was about to address, and had already by this time decided to cut him off, facing the queen and the king, smiling as calmly as he could manage at then.

"Your highnesses, I'd like to ask you for your son's hand in marriage, and for your blessings."

Christian had reeled the request off so perfectly, the words tripping off of his tongue with no problem whatsoever. That of course, had been the easy part. It was what came next that scared the shit out of him.

Beside him, Alex was going into shock at how smoothly and swiftly he'd just cut across him with a statement like that, and he wasn't the only one, the table falling quiet around them once again as everyone else overheard Christian's little request. Even Christian's mother hadn't been aware that Alex had already proposed to him, and that Christian had in turn agreed. He was supposed to be being petrified of the two people before him, but he was too busy smiling like a blushing schoolgirl to himself as he remembered that little event, accidentally slipping into his little dream world as the lower king and queen of the south-west of the country looked at him.

The pair exchanged sideways looks at one another, making no other gesture but seeming perfectly capable to communicate simply via telepathy or eye contact. Upon returning her gaze to Christian, Alex's mother gave him a rather dry smile and then faced her son. "Alex?" She inquired simply, raising her eyebrows at him whilst he sat stone still in his seat. He recovered far faster than he had once done however, by now used to Christian casually doing the unexpected in such a manner, so after giving his fiancé a rather accusing glare that was not devoid of humour, he straightened himself and addressed his mother.

"I proposed last month," he explained with a blush pooling over his cheeks, squirming a little as his mother continued staring levelly at him. This time, Christian took his turn to squeeze his hand in reassurance. "And I love him," he added in such an off-handed matter that it made it sound like such a trivial thing, as though it ought to have been taken for granted a long time ago.

The lower queen looked between the two of them as her son blushed and smiled and his counterpart grinned and looked more akin to an imp than a proper gentleman, of whom she was well aware was both a man and had previously cross-dressed, two things that were hardly the sort of article that was brushed over in this world of royals. "I really do love him too, your highnesses," Christian added a little hesitantly, as if he were worried speaking might break any consideration available, but the nerves were marred by the lingering grin on his face, "and it's kind of one of those lifetime deals so…" Alex shot him a sideways glower, demanding of him why he could never be serious, in response to which Christian just smiled cheerily.

Alex's mother also did not look so impressed with his inability to be straight with her, another trait she seemed to share with her son, and she now turned on Christian. "You know -without a doubt and with complete sincerity- that you're going to love my son eternally and want to spend the rest of your life with him?" She demanded of him with such grandeur and grave seriousness that Christian's teasing overcoat quickly vanished and he looked back at her with wide, honest eyes, before he nodded.

"Yes."

"Well then, I suppose that settles it," she concluded with a factual tone that sounded wonderfully final. "We'll have to set the date for the wedding."

Just like that, it was done. The pair of now officially engaged males seemed equally shell-shocked, but as Alex awkwardly turned to speak to Christian's mother and to apologise for not asking her earlier, repeating the requesting process, Alex's mother once again took up Christian's attention, now speaking in a low, muted tone so as not to be overheard by others. "You'd best take good care of him," she warned him with a rather coy smile, "he's far more high maintenance in real life than when he plays around at dinners and dances."

A little taken aback by Alex's mother being so… _relaxed_ around him, especially at a formal dinner, Christian took a moment and then grinned back. "A fact I am well aware of," he drawled back, matching her volume as she snorted slightly and set her cutlery down, done with her meal.

"It's a shame; I've always wanted grandchildren, but then perhaps I can just baby your younger brother, whom your mother was telling me so much about." Christian rapidly decided he loved this woman and would be honoured to have her as his in-law, and it had nothing to do with her position.

"Well if Alex wants to, I'd be honoured to have his adopted babies."


	25. Chapter 25 - Christian Summers

Sometimes, the things Christian most expected somehow managed to surprise him the most. When his mother happily agreed to their engagement and proceed to stretch across the table to hug Alex and welcome him to the family –she had not had the same etiquette lessons as the rest of them, and Christian loved her for that fact- he gone and gotten all oddly emotional. When Isabelle finally relented and told Alex he'd better let her best friend come visit often and then grinned over at him, Christian was pretty sure he was going to cry.

It was odd, but on the reverse, the element of the evening that he had least expected also surprised him the least. After they'd finished dining and they'd retired through to a lounge area, Christian had gone to use the little boys room, only to find after he'd come out, Marian was stood there in the corridor, staring at him, looking rather pale considering she was now well-tanned from her travels around the world.

Worried he'd stepped into a horror film, trapped alone with a woman who could well want his head up on a pike; Christian had tried out an awkward smile and taken a hesitant step back, having nearly walked into her before he'd actually noticed her presence. All of a sudden though, Marian had then pounced on him.

Initially he was sure his suspicions had been right and that she was stabbing him, or perhaps she was going for something more visually dramatic like throttling him, but after a few stunned seconds and the realisation that he wasn't dying, he realised she was hugging him. In fact, she was shaking slightly, the tale tale trembles of sobs evident as she clutched at him, her arms around his shoulders. Giving no explanation, she said nothing, remaining silent as she just hugged him so tightly he was having difficulty breathing.

In turn, he didn't speak, dithering for a moment before he patted her on the back and tried to put the fact that she'd been happily set on preforming rather violent tasks against him and instead hugged her in return. All the events of Charm school were behind them, but they still seemed resonantly relevant as they left them behind. Marian was no longer queen bee, and was now simply due to be queen, and Christian was no longer the school slut, instead just another Lady Royal, albeit a rather odd one. The odd, unexplainable mutual understanding still remained however, even though they didn't really know what it was or how to word it, it was there.

Drawing back, Marian sniffled and dried her eyes, before grinning like a child at Christian. He grinned back, laughing really just because he wasn't sure what was going on and then her smile softened and dropped until she looked completely serious. Nodding to him, she gave him one last linger glance before turning and walking off, still not having spoken a word to him that evening. It had been totally unexpected and although Christian had no idea what_ it_ had even been, it somehow felt as though it made sense to him, and he returned to the others feeling unusually relaxed.

That night, he lay next to Alex and started grinning in the dark to himself, but his counterpart still spotted it. He didn't ask why he was grinning, nor did he say anything at all, he just shuffled over slightly and then kissed him on the lips, smiling along as well before he rolled over so he had his back to Christian, attempting to sleep. With a sense of satisfaction that ran through him to the core, Christian wiggled over, curled an arm around Alex's torso and then closed his eyes. For once in his life, he'd gotten what he'd wanted, and all at once everything had worked out, whether he'd expected it to or not.

Finally, he had to say goodbye to Christie, and he couldn't bring himself to feel too nostalgic about what lay behind him, because what was ahead was looking pretty damn perfect.

**A/N: That's all folks. Thank you to anyone who's read this far, and especially to anyone who has reviewed this, since they gave me the push to actually finish this montage. I hope you have enjoyed the Christie Crusade, that my dry humour and bitterness hasn't bored to you watch paint dry and that this ending is to your satisfaction; I think by now, they've all earned the right to be happy. Thanks again for reading and supporting this, I had great fun writing it I must admit :D**


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